Work Text:
Shelves bent with the weight of books, desks cluttered with scribble-on-paper; In Yongsan, Seoul, Namjoon sits frustrated. His hair stands straight in varying directions, frustration solidifies in his hands that are wound into tight fists and rest on the wooden desk.
“..and I was thinking if we layer Jungkook’s voice here to create harmony behind Taehyung’s vocals-“
The sound of an iPhone’s ringtone breaks Namjoon out of his concentration and his head snaps to the video call on his desktop screen, his sentence ending abruptly.
“Sorry, I’m getting a call. Give me one moment.”
Namjoon waits, letting moment after moment pass, pen tapping against his desk, leg bouncing. His knee hits the top of his desk, and he clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth to distract himself from that sharp pain.
“Okay, yeah. Yeah, of course. I’ll get back to you,” and Namjoon waits for the attention to be back on him. “Sorry, where were we?”
“A harmony behind Taehyung’s verse? So-”
“Sorry,” and the phone's ringing again.
Namjoon takes a deep breath to steady his frustration, but there are only so many interruptions he can take before quitting music and retiring to a private forest in the middle of nowhere with no cell reception seems extremely inviting.
“I’m back. So, harmonies over Jungkook’s ver-“
“Harmonies under Taehyung’s verse.” Namjoon sighs. He takes the thick-lensed glasses off his nose and runs a hand through the short brown hair already sitting unruly on his head. “Why don’t we pick this back up when you’re less preoccupied?”
“Oh, that would be very helpful, thank you!” and the video call is disconnected quicker than Namjoon can say Entitled, Useless American only interested in using BTS for their fanbase and not their talents or their-
Knock, knock, knock.
There’s a light tap on the wood of Namjoon’s studio door, and then a shuffling of slipper-clad feet.
“Come in, Jungkook-ah,” he says, turning off the computer and spinning around in his fancy new chair to face the door.
Jungkook steps in with a bright smile on his face, just a little hint of his prominent two front teeth poking through. “How’d you know it was me?”
“Lucky guess,” Namjoon laughs, although he definitely knows Jungkook’s schedule. He just waits for the moment Jungkook gets free and decides to ‘annoy’ him. Though Namjoon can’t say he’s ever found him annoying. “What are you up to?”
“Just bored, thought I’d annoy my favourite Hyung.”
He lounges on the leather chesterfield sofa against the far wall; he scoots forward to lie on his side, curling his knees towards his chest, making himself as small as possible.
Suddenly Namjoon’s hands feel sweatier than before. He tries to wipe it off on his sweatpants inconspicuously and acts as though he hasn’t noticed the namjoon-sized space behind a sighing Jungkook.
“Tired?” Namjoon asks, noticing Jungkook’s eyes trying to close.
“Mmm,” Jungkook replies, murmuring really, in his low, sleepy voice. “What about you? You’ve been in meetings since 4am. Stupid Americans and their stupid timezone.”
“A little,” Namjoon shrugs, and he watches as Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut.
There’s a moment where the only sound in the room is Jungkook’s even breaths, and Namjoon holds his, trying to be as silent as possible to not break this tender moment. After a minute or two of silence, Jungkook frowns, a whine escaping his soft lips. The arm not trapped underneath his body reaches around as if it’s looking for something to grab ahold of. Failing to find the thing, Jungkook opens his eyes with a dissatisfied huff.
“Hyung,” Jungkook whines as he sits up. He lunges forward, towards Namjoon, to grab onto his sleeve and pulls him down to the sofa behind him. Namjoon's reminded of how strong their maknae is as he crashes against the back of the sofa. Jungkook immediately settles back into his previous position; on his side, knees to his chest. Namjoon falls over Jungkook, hands landing on either side of Jungkook’s head, and he holds himself up so he doesn’t crush Jungkook.
Namjoon watches Jungkook release a deep breath, a lot more content than before, and Namjoon thinks not snuggling into the space conveniently left between Jungkook and the back of the couch would be nothing short of a crime.
“Naptime,” Jungkook breathes out once Namjoon’s lying down behind him.
Namjoon lies on his back, head on the arm of the couch and long legs spilling over the other arm. Namjoon’s been in comfier positions, but when Jungkook shifts, turning around on his other side and placing his head softly on top of Namjoon’s chest, Namjoon slips into a peaceful slumber, perhaps a smile dances across his lips when Jungkook’s hair tickles his cheek.
Later that evening Namjoon finds himself overwhelmed. The nap was essential in restoring his energy and giving him much needed rest, but it absolutely did not help the stack of emails piling up in his inbox or the unfinished songs sitting in his WIPs folder.
Namjoon sits back in his chair. The couch Jungkook had occupied still feels inviting, warm; like remnants of Jungkook’s calm aura lingering.
Coldness chills Namjoon’s bones as he clicks open his inbox, and shivers take form with each line he reads. There’s nothing of interest, only rude American executives thinking they know BTS’s music better than BTS do.
Namjoon ends up shaking, with coldness, nerves, anger, the lot. It’s one problem after another these days. With Americans disregarding any input Yoongi seems to have for their tracks because they can’t seem to take him seriously enough, (despite the fact Yoongi’s music could run rings around theirs,) and some producers suggesting Taehyung’s voice isn’t right for a certain verse … as if Taehyung’s voice has ever been wrong?! It seems working with anyone in the west is just endless streams of defending their band, and it’s tiring. Namjoon leaves the studio that night with another 4am zoom call request and a headache.
Namjoon sits on the zoom call with a worse headache than the night before and exasperation in every syllable he’s able to squeeze in between the arrogant rambling of the producer on the call.
“We’ll pick this up next week,” he says, disconnecting the call and Namjoon wants to pull his hair out.
Despite zero progress being made on that track, the thought of not talking to the man for another week should bring some semblance of relief through Namjoon’s mind…
…Except his laptop and phone pings with an email and his deadlines loom over him like a dark cloud.
“Hyung?” Namjoon hears, realising he hadn’t even heard the knock of his door over the hurricane of thoughts swirling around his head.
Jungkook stands behind him, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouted. “Are you-“
“Sorry, Kook-ah,” Namjoon says, tiredness seeping into his voice. “I just have so much work to do today, we can nap or chill or whatever another day?”
“Sure, but didn’t you have so much work to do yesterday? And the day before that, and the day before that, and the-“
“Yes,” Namjoon lets out a deep sigh. “Isn’t it the nature of our job? I’m sure you have lots to do as well.”
His tone is snappy, and Jungkook’s eyes widen momentarily before they soften and he sits carefully on the floor with his legs crossed. He lifts his hands and eyebrows at the same time, only to pull Namjoon off his chair and onto the floor with him; Namjoon’s so tired he seems to slide off his chair easily.
“We seem to know when to take breaks and admit when things are too much, though,” Jungkook points out. “It’s taking more of a toll on you.”
“It isn't,” Namjoon shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
“Sure,” Jungkook replies, thumb delicately tracing under Namjoon’s eyes, right where the dark circles and bags sit. “There are people to lessen your load.”
But all Namjoon hears is:
Admit you’re not good enough.
Admit you can’t handle it.
Admit you’re failing.
So Namjoon just offers Jungkook a gentle smile and a shake of his head before he gets up, and plonks himself down on his studio chair to run himself ragged.
Jungkook leaves with the click of his tongue and a sad look in his eyes that Namjoon tries his hardest to not let haunt him.
Though it does haunt him, Namjoon also commits to overexertion.
It’s a special kind of torture, looking at the plethora of unfinished tracks on his desktop and fiddling with them for hours to try and make something sound halfway decent.
It’s a never-ending cycle of Namjoon sitting down and trying to make things work before he slams a hand down on the table in pure frustration. The stinging in his hand distracts him from the self-hatred battering against his skull, and he sits in it for a moment or two before it fades away into a distant sting. He finds himself longing for that pain, for that distraction. He slams his hand down again and sighs as the painful tingle in his palm spreads to his fingers. Eventually, every tiny movement he makes with his hand aches deliciously, addictively.
The song isn't working. It's not hard for Namjoon to recognise the frustration of writer's block, and with a heavy heart and the feeling of inadequacy settling in his gut, he trudges home.
Home is quiet. The house, too large for just one person, echoes the beat of his empty heart. The high ceilings leer down at Namjoon, wooden beams taunting him as the weight on his shoulders push him to the floor. The day catches up with Namjoon in a second, tears roll down his cheeks and the feeling of being pathetic swirls around with the myriad of other emotions overwhelming him.
Namjoon feels cold, sitting on the living room floor. The thought of mustering up enough energy to make it to his comfy brown sofa fills him with dread, let alone reaching his bag on the front door hook to answer the incessant ringing of his phone.
Every minute that goes by brings fresh tears. It’s grating on Namjoon, the way the phone won’t fucking stop.
With a huff and an angry tense of his jaw and fists, Namjoon lifts himself up and walks to his bag. He deflates when he sees ‘Mom’ on his phone screen along with (6) missed calls, and he flinches when it begins ringing again.
“Hi Mom,” he answers, his croaky voice sounding foreign to his own ears.
“Namjoon-ah,” his mom replies with a disapproving lilt to her voice. “What took you so long to answer?”
“Sorry, I just got home from the studio.”
“Have you been there twenty-four hours a day for the past two weeks?” She asks, increasingly angry.
Namjoon’s heart beats a little faster and his head gets a little heavier. He collapses into the comfort of his sofa at long last.
“I’m sorry.”
“Two weeks, Namjoon-ah. I’m your mother, you can’t ignore me for that long. Do I deserve that?”
Namjoon stifles a sob, the tired type that arises when he’s so exhausted he just gets frustrated and emotional. “You don’t, Mom. I’m sorry.”
“When will you visit? Your Dad and I miss you so much, you know. We raise you to be this successful and you can’t take a moment to come to visit us?” She sucks her teeth, the universal sound for I'm disappointed and unhappy with you.
“I’ll see you this weekend?” Namjoon says, and he tries his best to keep the exhaustion from his voice.
“Perfect,” His mom replies, tone softer but it does little to quell his erratic breaths.
The call ends and Namjoon can’t focus on anything other than his heart beating and his thoughts overwhelming him. He’s losing his grip on everything: his band, his work, his own family. How long until the members call him out? Jungkook had made it clear they knew he was struggling.
Namjoon can’t catch his breath between the racing thoughts and he quickly gets overwhelmed, tears falling down his cheeks like a waterfall. He clenches his fists tightly to get a hold on his emotions but when his nails start to really push into his palms he’s up at a moment’s notice. He walks to his wooden desk that sits in front of the window and slams his hand down. The immediate stinging takes his mind off his racing thoughts and he can suddenly breathe. He closes his eyes and sits on his desk chair, repeatedly slamming his hand down. He just wants to think about something else.
Riding his bike helps. The cold breeze holds a hundred bad thoughts, and Namjoon listens to its song; The high whistle as the wind picks up. His thoughts blow up with it.
...It's a shame that what goes up must always come down. Namjoon's thoughts slam into him as he locks his bike up and steps into the elevator. The closer it gets to his studio, the closer the walls feel. Suffocated by the pressure on his shoulders and against his chest, Namjoon stumbles off the elevator and into the studio, landing unceremoniously on the sofa, breathing heavily.
It's not fair, he thinks. The rest of the group are fine. They're handling everything, and after years and years of working this way, you'd think Namjoon would have a grip on things. It's frustrating that with each new album and each passing day, things seem to be getting worse. Namjoon's coping capabilities seem to have blown away with the wind, blown up too high into space to ever fall back down to him.
Namjoon takes a shaky deep breath in and realises the studio is still pitch black, but he doesn't feel like turning on the lights and facing the reality of the messy studio, a reminder of the million different things on his to-do list. Instead, Namjoon waits for his vision to adjust and uses the slight shadows to navigate to his chair. Turning on the computer emits more light than he'd like, so he decreases the brightness to that, too.
The fragility of Namjoon's mental state seems to have its own magnetic field to Namjoon's computer. The moment he opens his emails is the moment the tears force themselves out of Namjoon in a choked up sob, catching him by surprise.
Namjoon didn't think he was the type to cry much, but when everything seems like too much his emotions need a release like a bird flying free from its cage. It's easier to stop the tears when Namjoon slams his hand back down on his desk, repeatedly.
It's the knock on his door that has him breaking out of his trance, wrist beginning to bruise. He blinks back and looks at his open document, and despite using one hand to type, he's made more progress than he's managed to all week.
The door knocks again and he quickly pulls his sleeve down. "Jungkook-ah? Come in."
Jungkook walks in yawning, arm under his shirt scratching his sternum, making it ride up. Namjoon coughs and averts his eyes, he has too much to do to sit admiring Jungkook's body.
"Wanna grab lunch later?" Jungkook asks, settling into the sofa like it's his. He doesn't even look when his arms reach behind the sofa to find the hidden blanket there. "We're gonna need the energy before dance class later, I hear- are you okay?"
Jungkook stops mid-sentence, doe-eyes growing even wider in concern. He stands and lets the blanket fall to the floor in his haste to cup Namjoon's cheeks, thumbs catching his tears with delicate strokes.
"Hyung," Jungkook whispers, sending tingles down Namjoon's spine.
This close, Namjoon watches Jungkook's lips form a pout, eyes glistening as he fails to hold his sympathy in. "I'm okay," Namjoon whispers back. He hadn't realised he was crying.
Jungkook shakes his head slightly but he doesn't comment on the obvious lie. Instead, he brings Namjoon into a bone-crushing hug, like he's scared Namjoon will fight it and try to pull away. He wouldn't dream of it.
"I'm just tired," Namjoon quietly says into Jungkook's shoulder, arms tight around his waist.
Jungkook pulls back from the hug slightly, their arms have little slack to them but they still hold one another. "In what way?"
It must be clear in the way Namjoon's eyebrows furrow and his head tilts a little that he's confused because Jungkook continues, "Didn't-get-enough-sleep tired, I-have-too-much-to-do tired, or I'm-sick-and-tired-of-everything tired?"
"Yes." Namjoon deadpans. Jungkook just sighs sadly.
"Sit down," Jungkook says, taking Namjoon's arm and pulling him towards the sofa. Namjoon resists though, and it takes all the strength he has left to not collapse into the sofa with the safety that Jungkook's embrace brings.
"I can't," Namjoon replies, gently prying Jungkook's hands from his arm and ignoring the pout on his lips. "I have to work, Jungkook-ah."
"If you need to rest, you need to rest," Jungkook says matter-of-factly, and Namjoon wishes he had the time to rest.
Instead, Jungkook lowers his head in defeat before taking the blanket from the floor and putting it around Namjoon's shoulders, who's still settled on his desk chair.
"Thank you," Namjoon says softly, and Jungkook rests his chin on top of Namjoon's head.
"Can I stay here whilst you work?" Jungkook asks softly but Namjoon can't help the shake of his head.
He can't bear for Jungkook to see just how frustrated he gets with each failure. He can't bring himself to crumble any more than he has in front of him. Maybe that comes from being his leader, but Namjoon wants to appear strong for Jungkook, wants Jungkook to only ever see him in the best light possible.
When Jungkook leaves with disappointment painted across his face, the studio feels colder and suddenly each breath echoes off the walls, only emphasising his loneliness. Namjoon chews his lips bloody, wishing he had the strength to succeed at something, wishing he had the strength to ask Jungkook to stay.
"It's not working," Yoongi shakes his head, leaning back on his desk chair. His hair is unruly on his head from the million times he's raked his hands through it in frustration. His lips are red, teeth incessantly biting down on them as his mind works a million miles a minute. "Have you tried layering the-"
"Yes," Namjoon nods. "It sounds too full, not vulnerable enough."
Yoongi clicks his tongue. "Right. What about a soft string sec-"
"How would that lead into the chorus? Strings won't work in that section and it can't blend with that heavy drum li-"
"Joon-ah," Yoongi interrupts. "I know you're frustrated, but we'll get this."
Namjoon forces his tone to quell, curl in like a cat, and his nails dig into his palms as he lets frustration bleed from him.
"It's due on Monday," Namjoon replies as a byway of an explanation for his snapping and irritation.
"We'll work all weekend if we have to."
The words fail to leave Namjoon's throat, and he swallows harshly to stop himself from choking on them. The phone rings and he prays that no one answers, content with being the worst human alive and leaving just a voicemail.
"Hello?" His mother answers, her soft voice slurred with sleep. "Namjoon-ah?"
"Hi," Namjoon replies in trepidation.
As a mother does, she senses it immediately. Namjoon can only imagine his mother rising like a snake, poised to attack, "This better not be about what I think it's about."
"Mom," Namjoon feels weak when his voice cracks; vulnerable and breaking. "I'm sorry."
"Save it," His mom replies, feeling just as hurt. "I shouldn't have to wait this long to see my son. You're really going to choose a job over your family?"
"It's not like that," Namjoon pulls his knees to his chest and tries to sink into his armchair. The flames from his fireplace do nothing to warm the chill spreading throughout his shaking limbs or the cold running through his blood. "The deadline for this song is Monday, I need this weekend."
"So do I, Namjoon!" Her voice raises in desperation as opposed to the anger Namjoon was expecting; the anger he deserves. "Just-Just come to me when you decide to put us first for once."
"I'm sorry," Namjoon tries again but the line goes dead.
Namjoon feels helpless and utterly defeated. What else was he supposed to do? How has every member managed to hit their deadlines and continue like life is normal? How has the stress not eaten them alive, their thoughts rattling around in their skull and haunting them with every waking moment? What makes him so fucking useless this time around? Is he losing his touch? His talent? If he is, then what's next? He can't drag down the group, it wouldn't be fair on the members to continue leading them whilst he loses his ability to contribute. He'd become a freeloader getting recognition for the art he can't even compare to.
Namjoon feels sick, but not the run-to-the-toilet kind. It's the disgusted kind. He feels uncomfortable in his skin, not wanting to be himself right now. Namjoon clutches at his arms, fingernails digging into the skin and as he scratches he focuses on the stinging intensifying with each drag across his skin. It's not long before his nails draw blood, bubbling slightly at the grazes he's caused.
It's when he stops and sits still to feel the burn of the scratching that he breathes properly. He can justify the pain and make it easier to deal with by knowing he deserves to do this to himself. He can let go of the overwhelming spiralling thoughts by just focusing on the physical pain, letting his emotional turmoil bleed out of him that way.
On his way to the bathroom to wash up, Namjoon slams his hand on his desk and bids the emotions of the day good night.
There's a serenity in the idleness of childhood. When Namjoon was young, he'd wake up earlier than anyone else and waddle down the stairs to the living room. A quick learner and independent from a young age, Namjoon would fetch the cereal and pour his milk into a bowl before settling in front of the morning cartoons. He'd chomp happily, enjoying the crunch between his teeth and the fullness of those chubby cheeks he held onto well into his teens. Giggling along to the shows without a care in the world are some of the fondest memories he has.
It's not like Namjoon can't wake up early and enjoy TV with a bowl of cereal in his lap these days, but it's the lack of responsibilities or pressure that has these moments held so tenderly in his heart, painful longing for simpler times tugging at his heartstrings.
Pulling on his shoes, Namjoon sighs in frustration. The house is dark. Namjoon, not wanting to catch a look at himself in the mirror, trudges around to get dressed in almost pitch black. He keeps it simple with a black tracksuit, hood up with no plans to pull it down. Saturday mornings are painful for work, but even more so when he locks the front door and makes his way to the car waiting for him at 4am.
Motivation evades Namjoon like a dodgeball and his arms long to be scratched and his hands shake as all Namjoon can imagine is slamming them on the desk. He needs a moment to collect himself, to let his thoughts bleed out of him with pain he can focus on so he can leave room for the important things, like how to improve this chorus or add a better beat for the intro.
"Do you need a break?" Yoongi asks gently, eyes trained on Namjoon's bouncing knee. Yoongi's studio light flickers, hurting Namjoon's sleep-deprived and bloodshot eyes.
"No, let's just keep going," Namjoon shakes his head, refusing to admit defeat, clinging to his pride as though he's on a cliff's edge, about to plummet to his death.
So…they keep going. They improve the intro with three hours of continuous, restless and frustrating work. Yoongi looks ready to punch a hole in the wall and Namjoon's head pounds mercilessly, but it's worth it to actually be satisfied with a piece of work.
The chorus is a little trickier, and it's quickly apparent that Namjoon needs to rewrite it and Yoongi needs a fresh track of vocals to work with; there's a long string of dramatic, unnecessary groaning from both of them before they accept it. Just as Namjoon opens up a file on his laptop, the door bursts open.
He smells food first, eyes closing as delicious fumes invade his senses and have his mouth-watering, then his eyes open and mind eases when he spots the beaming smile on Jungkook's face as he places plates down in front of him.
"Mmm, this is perf-" Yoongi begins but Jungkook quickly slaps his hand away from the plate on the desk.
"These two are Namjoon Hyung's," Jungkook replies. "I have dumplings, rice, kimchi, curry and ramen…I wasn't sure what you wanted."
Namjoon watches as a faint blush spreads across Jungkook's cheeks and to the tips of his ears, resembling the salmon sushi he sets in front of Yoongi from his paper bag.
"You like this stuff, so shut up," he mumbles to Yoongi who's shaking his head, a dash of embarrassment still apparent in Jungkook's slightly hunched over demeanour.
Yoongi looks between the myriad of dishes in front of Namjoon and his sushi plate. "The favouritism in this room stinks."
"Open a window, then," Jungkook replies petulantly before Yoongi flicks him on the centre of his forehead.
"Are you staying? I need someone to record some vocals," Yoongi asks, but it doesn't sound like a question; a demand if anything.
Jungkook huffs as he sits on the arm of Namjoon's chair.
"I also need someone to help me finish this food," Namjoon offers up, getting a piece of chicken in his chopsticks and bringing it to Jungkook's pink lips. Jungkook opens his mouth for the food and tries to stifle a smile as he chews. With no extra pair of chopsticks, Jungkook and Namjoon eat lunch like this, ignoring the muffled groans from Yoongi about being the third wheel.
Despite knowing that Jungkook's aware of Namjoon's recent shortcomings in the productivity department, Namjoon had thought he was doing a good job of hiding just how much he was struggling. However, as the day drones on and Yoongi's sighs become more frequent and Namjoon's hands shake as anxiety builds in his chest, Jungkook fits his hand into Namjoon's hands, squeezing them at the exact moment Namjoon's anxiety spikes. He whispers reassuring sentiments in his ears throughout and offers up suggestions whenever he can.
Something shifts. Namjoon ticks something off of his to-do list. They finish the song with Jungkook's help, the three of them getting more work done in the afternoon than they had the past two days, and Namjoon can't help but attribute that to Jungkook and the calming, sensitive, comforting energy he brings to every room he's in. Namjoon clings to Jungkook's energy like a safety blanket, draping himself in calmness and relaxing into an atmosphere he's able to work in; an atmosphere that produces work instead of curling into his thoughts and spiralling into them.
It's entirely frustrating and obvious when Namjoon realises the problem the next day. He's alone in his studio, and he's moved on to stressing about the next thing; the next song that needs finishing, or the next meeting he has to contribute to. Their extra activities including merch designs and Run BTS filming are often welcomed breaks from their hectic schedules, but today everything feels like stress piled on top of stress.
A scrape across the floor is heard and Namjoon turns around to find a little note on the floor.
I'm working a couple of floors down
but here's a note to remind you that I'm proud of you
- Your Jungkookie
By Tuesday Namjoon has a new deadline looming. His work feels like a never-ending cycle of deadlines and stress and he doesn't dare to look at the sorry state of his hand taking the poundings against the desk and the scratches up his forearms. But after the storm, his panic creates and as the dust settles, a little light and a little calm peer into his life in different ways every day.
It's the note at the beginning of the week. In the middle of the week, he had big, fulfilling lunches sent to him. Snacks arrived at his doorway on the nights he worked far too late to be socially acceptable. A week or two in, Namjoon couldn't live without the coffee sitting outside his door every morning.
Namjoon knew who it was, but every time he approached Jungkook with a "thank you" on the tip of his tongue, Jungkook simply brushed it off and pretended to not know anything about it; a knowing smile on his face as he turned away and pretended he had urgent work somewhere else. Perhaps his insistence on not taking credit or a thank you had the nice gestures choking Namjoon up even more. As Namjoon failed to produce anything worthy of any value, and his work seemed harder, almost impossible, Namjoon couldn't understand why on earth he deserved someone like Jungkook. How does he deserve to lead Jungkook and take from him, only to fail him?
"The favouritism in this room stinks," Yoongi had said.
As Namjoon realises the weight of his position in the group and the influence he has on Jungkook, the sicker he feels and the bigger the urge to hurt himself grows. He can't latch onto Jungkook only to disappoint him in the end.
Accepting gifts from Jungkook becomes increasingly hard. Namjoon cherishes each note of encouragement and memorises it, practically carves it into his heart, but the lunches and the snacks and the little plants arriving on his doorstep or to his studio become impossible to keep. He redirects the food to whichever room Jungkook is working in, and Namjoon decides to regift the plants back to Jungkook. He feels as though he's rejecting Jungkook, which is insane because Jungkook isn't asking him anything, but Namjoon's heart hurts every single day.
Namjoon walks along the corridor, his fourth coffee of the morning too hot in his hands but he relishes the pain. As he turns into the meeting room and crashes into the blue sofa by Yoongi, his energy evaporates.
"Here," Namjoon hands Yoongi the flash drive and stifles his yawn by gulping down his boiling coffee.
"Which song is this?" Yoongi asks, and Namjoon notices Yoongi's own dark circles and prolonged yawn.
"The rap you wanted for the track you sent last Friday?"
"Oh fuck, thanks," Yoongi smiles and his smile gets wider as people pour into the room. "Seriously, I'm excited about this song."
At least somebody's excited about their music at the moment, Namjoon can't relate.
Namjoon looks over to the people piling in, and behind a couple of the staff walks in Seokjin and Jimin, with a timid and wide-eyed Jungkook trailing behind.
Namjoon immediately stands up but Jungkook just tugs on the back of Jimin's hoodie. "I'll go and see if Hoseok wants help in the dance studio," and he rushes away.
Jimin frowns before he locks eyes with Namjoon and lets out the longest sigh and rolls his eyes.
Namjoon crashes back down to the sofa.
"What?" Namjoon asks, feeling insecure as Seokjin settles into the couch next to him with a knowing smirk.
"You two are the most oblivious beings in the universe," Seokjin says, prompting a loud cackle from Jimin and a silent laugh from Yoongi. Jimin shuffles a chair over to the couch area and he suddenly feels like an interrogator.
"Jungkook's all embarrassed because he's been sending you things for weeks and now that you've started to reject them, he thinks you've cottoned on to his advances. Whereas you've just seen Jungkook after not seeing him properly for weeks and you look like you've just witnessed the sun for the first time in forever."
"No, I do not," Namjoon protests, feeling exposed all of a sudden. He hugs his arms to his chest and feels a petulant pout on his face as his cheeks heat up of their own accord. He doesn't know why he's blushing so fiercely all of a sudden.
"Oh please," Yoongi tuts. "You're a blushing mess around that boy, and he's infatuated with you."
"Stop," Namjoon shakes his head and squashes down the giddiness in his heart. He doesn't want to think about the implications, not when he doesn't deserve Jungkook. "Whatever you're implying-"
"That you two like each other but won't do anything about it?" Seokjin gasps. "Would we ever imply such drivel? An obvious lie? Everyone can tell that's absolutely not the case at all!"
"Thank you," Namjoon smiles, pointedly ignoring the theatrics and sarcasm as he stands and makes his way to the door.
"I was being sarcastic!" Seokjin replies at the same time Jimin yells, "You're supposed to be here to work?!"
Namjoon's hands shake with the urge to move. It confuses Namjoon. He's never felt it before, but something in his mind is asking him to hurry the fuck up and unlock his front door. His heart beats faster as if it can push against his chest to propel him into his living room and then into his bathroom. Namjoon lets his mind run away with these urges and drag him into the bathroom. His eyes set on his razor and it's like a flurry of emotions hit him in the face. He cries. He sobs. He screams. He clutches his hair, but in the end, his urges win out and his left arm falls victim to sharpness and stinging. Everything is red.
Everything is red. Scars heal red. Cuts burn red. Blood drips red. The coldness of the morning paints red onto Namjoon's cheeks as he decides to walk into work; maybe the sharp coldness will cleanse his mind and allow him to focus on something else...maybe work? He hopes, anyway.
When Namjoon opens his studio door there's a familiar mop of brown hair resting against the arm of his couch, legs curled up tightly on the cushions. All Namjoon can hear is Jungkook's slow, even breaths and he allows himself a moment to watch his peaceful expression.
"Jungkook-ah," Namjoon whispers, not wanting to startle him. "Jungkook-ah, wake up."
Jungkook groans and stretches before his eyes flutter awake. "Oh," he says when their eyes lock. "Sorry, Hyung."
Jungkook swings his legs around and sits up; Namjoon settles on his desk chair.
"I was waiting for you last night but I guess I was more tired than I thought," Jungkook sheepishly replies.
"You slept here all night?" Namjoon seems shocked, knowing Jungkook's bed at home is comfortable and better than a little studio couch.
Jungkook nods. "Was going to see if you had needed any food but you went home early for once."
"Oh," is all Namjoon can say, not sure how to read into it, so he turns around and busies himself with his computer setup.
"Do, uh, do you have a lot to do today?" Jungkook asks.
Namjoon stops turning on and logging into his computer but he doesn't turn to face Jungkook. "Yeah."
Jungkook makes no noise, so Namjoon resumes logging in. He can't bring himself to watch Jungkook, scared he'll beg him to stay, only to disappoint him again.
"So you'd rather I just…" Jungkook trails off.
Namjoon swallows his wants. "Yeah. I'm just busy today."
"Okay," Jungkook probably nods. "You can take a break, Hyung," Jungkook says, "No one would blame you. We'd understand," and the door clicks shut shortly after.
Namjoon tries to convince himself that it's better to let Jungkook go. He needs to figure his shit out before he can be the person Jungkook deserves.
Namjoon would ponder why the person he is to Jungkook matters so much more than the person he is for the others. He would try to figure out why he can be in the same room with them and not want to run away - sure he's hiding his issues, sure he doesn't want to be a failure of a leader to any of them, but why he doesn't feel the same intense need to run away the second they enter the room like he does when Jungkook does? He'll tuck that into the back of his mind for now.
Because Namjoon has to use all of his energy to keep the intense feeling of failure at bay. He can't even bring himself to stay in the room. Need a break? So it is that obvious! Namjoon can't handle his job. It's obvious he's failing, that he's bad at every single thing he puts his mind to. Of course, it's obvious! He's so fucking unstable and emotionally exhausted, of course, Jungkook would see right through that and tell him to take a break. He's already failed Jungkook. He's already failed the band. He's already failed himself.
"Hyung?!" Someone yells as Namjoon sprints past them, but he doesn't take a second to look back, he just keeps running.
ﾟ｡ ਏਓ ｡ ﾟ
Jungkook's reason for joining this company and this group is no secret. Namjoon's rap, the story of how they met and Namjoon was in his boxers, and thighs, blah, blah, blah. It's a cute anecdote that Jungkook loves to tell.
But there are more thoughts, more feelings and more memories attached to those moments that make it so much more than what everyone thinks it is.
Harmless crushes are like the stems of a flower. It grows higher, looking much the same; a few blushes here and a little teasing there. However, with water and sunlight, the stems grow little buds, eventually, the buds develop flowers. The flowers are closed, protected by sepals before they eventually open. Over time, the bud blossoms into a beautiful mature flower.
Jungkook and Namjoon used to love movie nights until quite recently. Despite both being fans of big scary films or elaborate action movies, classics like Howl's Moving Castle or even romantic, sad films like Titanic, were their go-to's. These movies would leave them feeling hollow in a way, but not in an unwanted way. Love and passion permeate these films and it would engulf Namjoon and Jungkook in the need to be close. Jungkook's head would find its way onto Namjoon's shoulder and Namjoon's hand would find its way into Jungkook's hand. Once the couch felt uncomfortable, they'd snuggle in Jungkook's bed and watch the film from there, falling asleep together, hands entwined.
Then Jungkook felt himself becoming enthralled with being with Namjoon. Jungkook would come over to Namjoon's home just to sit with him. Perhaps Namjoon was reading on his windowsill and Jungkook would write from the couch. Oftentimes Namjoon was planning music on his laptop in his own bed and Jungkook would take over the TV and play video games. As these moments together grew so frequent, Jungkook developed deeper feelings for Namjoon. He admires Namjoon's dimples whenever he smiles, wishing he could bury himself in there and make a little home. Jungkook memorised the differences in his laughs - the fake laugh when he didn't want to offend whoever just made a joke, the loud laugh when something really tickled him, and the special giggle he had reserved for Jungkook when he was just fond. Jungkook has Namjoon's musings written down in a little notebook; a little book of Namjoonisms. Because the way Namjoon viewed life was so forgiving, so beautiful, and so comforting that Jungkook felt they should be preserved, protected and treated as preciously as he believed them to be.
Jungkook has only ever wanted to protect Namjoon and the way he views life. His favourite quotes, 'Life is a sculpture that you cast as you make mistakes and learn from them,' and 'Happiness is not something that you have to achieve, you can still feel happy during the process of achieving something,' may be carved into Jungkook's heart.
As Namjoon clearly spirals, Jungkook wishes he could have protected 'I think the biggest love is the love for oneself, so if you want to love others, you should love yourself first,' by Namjoon, better.
"Hyung?!" Jungkook yells, alarmed by the sheer speed of Namjoon's sprint. He looks panicked, his usual calm, dragon eyes now wide with fear. Jungkook doesn't give it more than a minute's thought before he charges after him.
Jungkook's completely out of breath. Namjoon has sprinted the whole 40 minutes back to his home, powerful emotions clearly launching him all the way home without stopping, and it only worries Jungkook more. Once he realised the route he had gone back to the studio and drove to Namjoon's house, but Namjoon still made it there first.
Jungkook bangs on the front door, urgency spreading through his chest and those familiar short breaths make themselves known, but Jungkook pushes them away. He forces himself to breathe, to not freak out, to remember all those nights that Namjoon trusted Jungkook with his feelings before he closed off.
The door swings open on his second bang and Jungkook rushes inside. He's first met with retching, and he shouldn't be surprised considering how much running Namjoon just did. Nothing really could have prepared Jungkook for what he sees in the bathroom.
Namjoon hunches over the toilet on his knees, dry heaving into the bowl as red drips down his forearm, his razor smashed into pieces around him, the blades scattered on the floor.
"Hyung?" Jungkook whispers, voice shaking. Fear grips him by the throat as Namjoon lets out a sob, and he closes the toilet lid to lean his forehead against it.
"Don't look at me," Namjoon begs, voice cracking with sobs. "I'm sorry, please go. This isn't me, this isn't-"
Jungkook doesn't listen though, he sits on the floor behind Namjoon and wraps him in his arms; Namjoon gives up, falls back into Jungkook's embrace and lets Jungkook completely engulf him.
Seconds tick by and turn into sob-filled minutes until Jungkook's been sitting on the floor holding Namjoon for almost thirty minutes.
"Can I clean you up?" Jungkook asks softly, taking Namjoon's chin and tilting his head back. Namjoon's eyes stay closed like he can't bear to face this reality, so Jungkook hooks his hands under Namjoon's arms and lifts them both up. Namjoon doesn't need his eyes open to find Jungkook's chest, it seems because he leans forwards and buries his head immediately. Jungkook doesn't know what else to do other than wrap his arms around Namjoon's shoulders and slowly walk them out of the bathroom and down the hallway and finally into the kitchen. Their waddle is awkward, but the tight clutch of Namjoon's hands on the back of Jungkook's hoodie means they aren't breaking apart any time soon.
"Hyung," Jungkook whispers into Namjoon's ear. "Can I let you go? I gotta get some wipes and some bandages."
Namjoon shakes his head, forehead rubbing against his hoodie and Jungkook lets the hug continue. Namjoon needs a hug right now, and a hug he'll get.
Jungkook's relieved that Namjoon's face looks clearer when they finally break apart. Namjoon perches on the kitchen stool and Jungkook takes his thumbs and tenderly wipes off any traces of tears on his cheeks.
"I don't know what came over me," Namjoon says, voice hoarse and quiet. "I'm sorry."
Jungkook takes the first aid kid from the cupboard under the sink and gently cleans Namjoon's arm. There are only a few cuts, not deep at all, probably more like scratches or grazes, and Jungkook's not only glad this isn't a hospital trip, but he hopes this means Namjoon's end goal wasn't the worst-case scenario.
Jungkook swallows down his fear. "Were you trying to…"
"No," Namjoon shakes his head and seizes the hand Jungkook isn't using to hold an antibacterial wipe in between his two hands, "I just wanted the feeling."
Jungkook nods and encourages Namjoon to continue talking.
"My head's a mess. It's filled with how I'm failing at my job, at being a leader, a friend, a son. I'm spiralling and all I can think about is how much I can't do anything right. I need an outlet. I needed to get rid of the pain, so I just, I, I just wanted to get it out. Stop it. I wanted-"
"Shh," Jungkook pulls forward and kisses Namjoon on the top of the head. "It's okay."
"It's not," Namjoon replies. "I failed you."
"You've never failed me," Jungkook immediately reassures. "Never in the entire time that we've known each other have you ever failed me."
"You said I needed a break," Namjoon says quietly, voice unsure and it breaks Jungkook's heart. He forces himself to keep breathing. Breathe through the fear, breathe through it all.
"I'm sorry," Jungkook says and pulls apart to start wiping up the dried blood on Namjoon's arm. "I didn't mean you needed a break because you're failing. You're exhausted, Hyung. You work so hard and for such long hours that I wanted you to rest and recharge; there's no shame in that."
The cuts aren't even bleeding anymore, but Jungkook wants to put the bandaids over them, anyway. He wants to kiss them better and wrap Namjoon up in 15 blankets whilst feeding him his favourite foods in bed, and then for him to sleep for an entire week.
"If I was good at my job I wouldn't need a break."
"You are good at your job," Jungkook shakes his head. "I took a break a few weeks ago, am I bad at what I do?"
Namjoon swallows and looks at the floor, completely unable to talk badly about Jungkook and Jungkook knows that.
"Taehyung's taking a break right now, is he bad at his job? What about when Yoongi went to visit his brother?"
"Koo-"
"No, Hyung. I don't understand why it's only a bad thing when you need a break. Everybody needs to take breaks. Would you ever deny one of us a break?"
Namjoon's mouth is open and he breathes heavily through it, but his eyebrows are furrowed and conflict rests on his expression. Jungkook must be getting through to him. "No," Namjoon shakes his head. "I wouldn't dream of it."
"Then extend the same courtesy to yourself," Jungkook pleads and begs. He looks into Namjoon's eyes, his soul on display for Namjoon, showing him just how much he means everything he's said.
ﾟ｡ ਏਓ ｡ ﾟ
It's a process, but Namjoon's feeling better.
He takes the break Jungkook begs him to take. The dishes are done and Namjoon lays in post-meal glory, stomach full and mind content with the sounds of guns shooting in the distance.
"VICTORY!" The TV yells and Namjoon lets out a giggle as he snuggles deeper into his couch.
"Don't you get bored of humiliating Seokjin in this game?" Namjoon asks, but Jungkook turns around from his spot on the floor and laughs.
"Nope."
Apparently, Namjoon's break also meant Jungkook's break, because Namjoon has found himself with Jungkook in his house every day this week.
Jungkook shuts off Namjoon's Xbox and switches to a random channel on Namjoon's TV playing some random cheesy drama, and he settles into Namjoon's couch and rests his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Namjoon thinks this feels like home. He doesn't worry about work, he doesn't worry about his worth, he thinks he'd feel nothing other than content if this was what the rest of his life felt like.
It's a crisp morning. Namjoon admires the azure sky and watches his breath blow out in front of him. His hands are warm in black gloves and his scarf sits snug around his neck as the wind chills his cheeks. He enjoys his walk to work and lets the fresh air wake him up a little more. He briskly walks through the doors of the company and into the elevator. His studio's floor takes a while to get to, but it's worth it to enter the serene space he's made for himself. He rests in his chair and loads up his computer, and when his latest project finally opens up, he sighs.
The work isn't finished, it's actually nowhere near finished. He focuses on breathing deeply and slowly and doesn't let an inkling of being overwhelmed invade his head. He takes it one task at a time, one verse at a time, one word at a time.
Namjoon's had a week off and been back at work for three weeks, and there are bad days and good days, but what's important is managing the bad days and looking forward to the good days, the days when Jungkook works from his couch or tells him a story or puts on a film.
On the bad days, Namjoon often finds himself seeking out Jungkook. It's not in an unhealthy, codependent, Jungkook-stops-my-mental-health-from-being-bad way, because nobody has ever accused Namjoon of being stupid, he knows that's not how this shit works; Jungkook just makes him feel good. Jungkook is nice to him, he's patient and cares about him…and likes him. Namjoon has sought out Jungkook and enjoyed his company long before his mental health spiralled.
The corridors are grey on the top floors, the light dim and unobtrusive on the eyes since the members treat these floors more like their home instead of an office. Namjoon's feet get tired as he seeks out his comfort, he sighs with confusion, Jungkook's empty studio an unwelcome sight, and so he seems to walk aimlessly, wondering whose studio he could be camping out in. He likes to work with Yoongi, but Hoseok's studio's light is on, too. As Namjoon walks towards their studios he hears a commotion in the men's bathroom.
Namjoon opens the door and finds Jungkook hunched over the sinks, a hand to his chest.
"Jungkookie?" Namjoon worries, but Jungkook shakes his head and holds a hand out to keep Namjoon back.
"What's going on?"
"Just.. give me a.. second," Jungkook grits out. He closes his eyes and mumbles to himself.
Namjoon cannot help the worry from seizing him, so he keeps his eyes trained on Jungkook, though he respects his boundaries and stays back. Jungkook's breaths come in short gasps but his jaw tightens with determination and he forces himself to breathe deeply.
"Will a hand on my chest help?" Namjoon asks, trying to think of panic attack symptoms he's read about. "To match my breathing?"
Jungkook opens his eyes and they're red and wide. He nods and holds out a hand and Namjoon scrambles to be in front of him in a second. Jungkook's hand is cold as he holds it and presses it against his own chest; Namjoon holds it steady for him, becoming a pillar to hold Jungkook up. Jungkook's knees shake but it looks like Jungkook is determined to stand upright.
It takes a few minutes of nervousness and Jungkook's forced deep breaths before Jungkook moves his hand off Namjoon's chest and he smiles. His breathing seems more natural and normal.
"Thank you," Jungkook sighs.
"What happened?" Namjoon asks. His hands itch to do something and the feeling only settles once he grabs Jungkook's hand and holds it firmly.
Jungkook shrugs sheepishly. "I get panic attacks sometimes."
"This happens a lot?! What's causing them? Are you okay? Do you need-"
"Please calm down," Jungkook laughs like he's not the one who was just having a panic attack. "I know how to kind of manage them as best as I can. I see a counsellor about them and some of our managers and security guards know about them."
"But the members don't?"
"They're a recent development," Jungkook admits uneasily. "I didn't want to tell them until I had a complete handle on them. You know how you all worry…"
"Still," Namjoon rubs his thumb on the back of Jungkook's hand. "You could have told me. I'm the leader for starters and, you know. I'm your Namjoon."
"You are my Namjoon," Jungkook smiles fondly. "I was working up the courage to tell you first before we kinda stopped hanging out so much."
"Oh," Namjoon replies, his smile drops.
"You had a lot going on, it's okay. You didn't know."
"I'm still sorry," Namjoon insists. "If I hadn't let work completely consume me that I would have noticed and-"
"I'm not mad at you or blaming you, so why are you trying to? Life's complicated."
"For everyone," Namjoon replies, realising just how wrapped up he was in things to think he was the only one having a hard time.
Maybe the others are having similar battles in their heads, and maybe this means Namjoon needs to create a more open environment between the members and management and advocate more breaks, more counselling, something. He needs to figure that out.
"You're still shaking," Namjoon notices.
Jungkook takes a deep breath like he's about to say something, but he walks into Namjoon instead, demanding an embrace. Namjoon can't bring himself to let him down.
"Take me home?" Jungkook quietly pleads.
Namjoon takes Jungkook home. To Namjoon's home, though.
Jungkook's panic lingers after panic attacks apparently; he shakes and his chest still feels tight and uncomfortable. After a glass of water, Namjoon can't help but insist a nap is in order, and he has to practically push Jungkook under the covers.
"But-" Jungkook tries to argue.
"Shh," Namjoon interrupts, and he climbs under the covers with him and cuddles him from behind, making Jungkook the little spoon.
"Okay," Jungkook agrees pretty quickly after Namjoon's arms have a hold of him.
"Counselling really helps by the way," Jungkook whispers into the silent bedroom. "Just something to ponder."
Counselling does help, but it's not without its challenges. It's like every instinct in Namjoon is screaming at him to keep his problems to himself, but he thinks of Jungkook getting himself through a panic attack and he thinks of the way Jungkook had to find him bleeding on the bathroom floor, heaving into the toilet, and he knows he needs these sessions.
Eventually, Namjoon learns new coping methods.
"It's all wrong," Namjoon mutters to himself as he works from the desk in his living room. He bashes his fist into the backspace button and grits his teeth as the work in front of him doesn't work.
Namjoon clenches his fists and mechanically walks into the spare room that he's converted into a gym. He starts on the treadmill on a brisk walk and then speeds into a jog before the sprint overtakes him. He distracts himself really well these days, exercising working immensely well for him, he's noticed. He pushes himself a little hard today, calves protesting as he stretches to cool down, but it's worth it. His head feels a lot clearer.
His head feels completely clear when his doorbell goes and he opens it to Jungkook standing there with a steaming bag of food in his hands. Namjoon's smile spreads from ear to ear as he takes in Jungkook. His bucket hat sits atop his messy hair and his eyes look a little weary; tired from a busy day at work. His skin still glows and his clothes are baggy but stylish, comfy enough that they envelop him in a way Namjoon wants to do with his arms.
"Can I come in?" Jungkook chuckles, clearly wondering why Namjoon is just looking at him, but it's like Namjoon's looking at him with new eyes.
Never failing at being there for him, Namjoon realises just how much he cherishes Jungkook and how much he'd do to keep seeing this fond smile on Jungkook's face. Namjoon surges forward and takes the food out of Jungkook's arms. He discards it on the floor fairly quickly, and at Jungkook's sudden protest for the food, Namjoon joins their lips together.
Jungkook settles into the kiss, their lips and tongues moving like they already know each other intimately.
"Namjoon," Jungkook says hungrily, the kiss deepening. "Fuck, Hyung."
"Please," Namjoon breaks apart a little. "We've been dancing around us for so long, we deserve this. We deserve each other."
Jungkook doesn't say another word, but his actions speak louder. Their arms are suddenly all over each other as they continue to kiss, and as hungrily as they feel, it doesn't look or seem messy at all. They move like a carefully choreographed dance and somehow Namjoon manages to lean Jungkook's head onto the pillows on his bed. Jungkook's eyes open in shock when his head makes contact and he seems just as shocked at how far they've travelled as one.
"How far are we taking this tonight?" Jungkook asks.
"How far do you want this to go?" Namjoon asks back and Jungkook chuckles.
"I asked you first."
"I asked you second."
"You're so annoying," Jungkook whines, leaning back on his elbows. Namjoon joins him on the bed and lies on his side.
Jungkook curls into Namjoon's side and rubs a hand up and down Namjoon's stomach. "Can we just hold each other? You're mine, now right? I can just hold you?"
"You can hold me," Namjoon assures him, snuggling closer. "I've always been yours."
—
A quote of Namjoon's to live by:
"Everyone suffers in their life. There are many sad days. But rather than sad days, we hope to have better days. That's what makes us live. That's what makes us dream."