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The persistent buzzing on the space beside him, along with soft paws kneading his chest like dough, pulls Yoongi away from sleep. He groans, patting a mindless hand on top of Ara's head. She protests with a sharp meow and hops off him. Her job's done after all.
Then it hits him—the ghost of a punch that leaves him hollow and feeling lonely. The bed’s too cold and too big all of a sudden. He’s elected to ignore it. He hasn’t even opened his eyes, for Christ’s sake.
He twists his body until he's laying on his stomach. He snatches his phone, turns the alarm off, and only then does he meet the day with eyes wide open.
And the day begins with 4 new emails, 3 messages from the Bangtan group chat, and 4 messages from Namjoon. It takes him two seconds to decide which of them is a priority.
They were sent hours ago. Just before his flight home took off, Namjoon had stretched his arms and snapped a photo of the five members of the Kim family. Mr. and Mrs. Kim are in the two seats at the back, smiling and posing with peace signs. Namjoon and Kyungmin's grumpy faces are slightly cracked like they were seconds away from laughing when Namjoon took the picture.
Under that, there are 3 gray bubbles of messages.
kim namjoon
HOMEBOUND
mom bought several sweaters for you, XL because she knows you like when the sleeves are too big
ps. i definitely didn’t tell her that. anyway love you!
Yoongi buries himself back in the duvet to compare. But, yes, the encompassing feeling in his heart is warmer than being under the covers. He presses his smile into his pillow as he tries to tamp down the giddiness that's overtaking him. At least he isn't kicking his feet in the air. There was no episode like that in the many years he's been in love with Namjoon and he isn't about to start now.
The years before that he had many urges to kick his ass, sure, but that's neither here nor there.
He makes his bed with practiced ease, soothing the butterflies while soothing the creases. The hollowness returns, though. As if it ever left. He sighs, resolute to it being there for the remainder of the week. He turns to the frame standing proudly on the nightstand and greets his parents good morning. The pain grows.
Once the curtains are drawn on his word, sunlight flooding the entire room, he goes to feed Ara and officially starts his day. Replies are sent, calendars are checked—and that's before he even stepped foot in the shower.
But there's one final order of business before he can even leave the apartment.
"Ara, come here," Yoongi calls the orange feline. The little minx is resting her head on the uparupa plushie Namjoon got for her. He crouches in front of her and poses for a pic. He takes two: one smiling and one copying the bored look on Ara's face.
Yoongi sends it to Namjoon in the middle of morning traffic on his way to the HYBE building. He won't get a reply until later when Namjoon's on Seoul ground. He adds one more message as soon as he's in his studio. For good measure.
yunki 💍🐱
tell nari-nim thanks ^^
ps. i love you too
"Okay, okay. Let's stop here and then we can resume from the beginning again tomorrow. Sound good?"
Yoongi dismisses everyone in the recording booth with a grunt and a nod. The group recording today came late and there was an instrumental missing from the track. That soon became an even rougher afternoon, rerecord after rerecord, pushing him teetering on the edge. It's nobody's fault. It's just been an off day.
For Yoongi, at least.
He just wants to do everything right and finish by the time he has to enlist. There's the tour first, though. But he scheduled a bunch of collabs in between. He's admittedly stretching himself too thin.
"Hyoin hyung?"
His manager appears by his side. The faint sound of typing fills the air.
"You're free to go, if you want." Hyoin can practically read his mind at this point of their careers. "I'll have them bring your car around."
"I'll be down in a bit. Can I get a coffee first?"
Hyoin stops texting. That deadpan stare is as good as Yoongi's, the result of working closely together for eight years, but it takes one to know one; Yoongi stares back hard. How many has he had today? Does it matter?
"I'm getting you a decaf," Hyoin decides. Yoongi just nods. A decaf is better than no caf.
He listens to him leave while he cradles the top of his head with flexed hands. When he reaches for his pocket, hoping to check if Namjoon landed safely, he can't find his phone. He must've left it in his studio, then.
Stewing is what Hoseok calls it when Yoongi stays in one place for a lot longer than Yoongi realizes. He says it’ll leave Yoongi feeling off kilter . Hoseok likes learning new terms and words, and then relays them all to Yoongi. It’s sweet, honestly.
He doesn't know how long he's been stewing but his hands are starting to ache and his stomach starts growling. Where's Hyoin?
The door clicks. A to-go coffee cup lands beside his right elbow. Decaf, the smell of triumph. He mumbles his thanks, a dismissal, but his manager hasn't left his side. With the crinkle of a paper bag, Yoongi looks up as if it's his name being called.
A sly smirk greets him, along with a generous waft of bacon and eggs from the paper bag. This isn't Hyoin. He keeps seeing that face in his dreams, but he hasn't seen it flesh and blush and dimples in weeks. The smirk melts to a soft lopsided grin the more Yoongi looks at it—at him.
"Please tell me that's a bagel from the cafe across the street, Namjoon-ah," Yoongi says, pointedly eyeing the bag and the bag only.
Namjoon takes the bait, feigning shock and hurt. "I'm so happy to see you, too, lover of mine. I haven’t seen you in four weeks."
“It was only three.”
“Three painstaking weeks that I didn’t see your face and you can’t even look at me!”
Yoongi stifles a laugh and reaches out for the bag, but Namjoon isn’t done and stretches his arm so high up that Yoongi can’t possibly reach for his prize without stepping on his chair.
“Oh, real mature, big guy,” Yoongi complains, unable to hide his laughter now.
Namjoon just grins in retaliation. He looks like an idiot, but he’s Yoongi’s proud idiot and he knows that by heart, uses it to his advantage, even.
“No, no. You want to hear how I’m doing first. So. I got here safely. The flight wasn't that rough. And no, Kyungmin was asleep the entire time and didn't talk my ear off about Harry Styles the whole way home. I missed you terribly and—” He sighs, shoulders sagging, and a dopey smile takes over his features. “I really missed you, Yoongi hyung.”
Affronted, but more or less amused and aching for Namjoon’s embrace, Yoongi stands and snatches the bag away. He takes a bite of the bagel inside of it first before he says, looking into Namjoon’s eyes, "I missed you, too, you dramatic ass."
"You love this ass, though, as much as I love yours bro.”
Yoongi snorts, “That’s gay, Namjoon.” He gets a point across by grabbing a handful of Namjoon’s ass, though, and squeezing it ‘til Namjoon squeaks and swats him away.
“Okay, I guess you love mine more than I love yours,” his boyfriend mutters, grinning and pulling Yoongi closer.
“Oh, a hundred percent.”
Namjoon’s twinkling eyes and scrunched up nose does things to Yoongi’s heart. God, he’s everything and he missed him so much.
Namjoon, bare-faced and corduroy-clad and cotton cardigan-covered, is back from his family trip. He's still as tall, broad, and soft as ever. His eyes are brighter, though. Transparently renewed from another getaway, Yoongi thought, was a good look on Namjoon. And he brought Yoongi breakfast for—he checks the time on his watch—dinner. It mustn’t have been that long since his plane landed, and yet the first order of business on his day is to make sure Yoongi is fed and caffeinated.
"Did you eat?"
"Check the bag, hyung."
There are two bagels in the bag; they eat their fill and decide to continue the reunion at home.
They gather Yoongi's work-at-home bag and talk on the drive. What has Yoongi been up to? Did Namjoon get that thing Yoongi asked for? Kyungmin has another story about work, but she made Namjoon swear she gets to tell Yoongi herself soon.
Namjoon follows Yoongi to their room, satisfied to watch from the bed while Yoongi does the motions of getting ready.
"They miss you," Namjoon tells him from where he's seated on the edge of the bed, fully facing the door to the bathroom. “Did you know they told me not through with the trip because you weren’t coming?”
“I’m really sad I missed it.”
Yoongi had back-to-back meetings and recordings. He needed to follow his timetable if he wanted to do everything he wanted to do before he enlisted.
“Next time, though. We’ll all go together as a family.”
It pierces through him, shattering his heart and putting it back together somehow, breaking and making him.
For the longest time, Min Yoongi didn’t have a family. Not since the car crash. He’s an only child with no close relatives to call if needed anything. He was utterly alone.
Bang PD had told him he still had a family. “Look around you,” he said and waved an arm around the studio apartment they were all crammed into at that point, “it’s not ideal, but it’s what you have. What they’re offering.”
The other six members stood in front of him. They all wore a different shade of despair for him and because of him. He had told them the day prior he didn’t want to debut anymore. But they all said they needed him. He thought it was a joke.
He needed them , not the other way around. That was exactly why he chose to leave.
And, Yoongi thought, that was why Namjoon didn't let him.
Yoongi smiles at himself in the mirror, patting his face dry. He directs that same smile at Namjoon when he’s done, taking his place on Namjoon's lap.
They're both stripped down to just their boxers. Pale skin against a tanned torso. His boyfriend's heavy lidded gaze tells him cheese is the last thing on his mind right now. He can empathize with that. After weeks, they’re sharing the same breath again, leaning their foreheads until their noses are side by side then cheek to cheek. In the dim lights of the room, the blackout curtains not allowing even the stars to witness them on the bed, what could be more perfect than this?
And yet, he's pulled back into the hollow shell of loss.
He presses into Namjoon more, hoping to get away from the pain. With splayed hands on Namjoon’s back, he sighs into the spot on Namjoon’s neck he claimed as home five years ago. Right here, he can forget about bad and unproductive days. He can release a big sigh without Namjoon worrying if he’s the cause.
No, his eyes are on the frame on his nightstand. There is pain and sadness and fear of the unknown. It’s all so heavy, it aches.
Namjoon immediately knows something’s not right by the way Yoongi shivers.
“You alright, hyung?” He coaxes it out of Yoongi with gentle squeezes on the shoulder.
“I miss them,” Yoongi whispers, pulling away so they’re eye to eye. Namjoon draws lines on the small of Yoongi’s back with his thumbs. “I miss them everyday but this past week it’s all dialed up to 11. There’s not much I can do not to feel it.”
He feels every bit of missing them so much. It all comes down to him now. That this was it, what's been bothering him all week—every week for the past ten years.
Namjoon keeps his steady gaze, understanding written all over his soft features under the orange glow of the ceiling lights. He tightens his embrace.
“You know that’s okay, hyung. Right? You and I both know that,” he says gently. "You can feel sad about it now. Whenever you feel like cursing the world about it. You're allowed to, darling."
Bro is for every other time when Yoongi isn't feeling so vulnerable and fragile. Darling is for this, for him, and Yoongi breaks.
Yoongi chokes out helplessly from a dislodged sob. His cheeks are warm and stained with tears now and God, it hurts. He pinches Namjoon's shoulders between his fingers and the heel of his palm.
Will it ever stop hurting?
For once, Yoongi wants to think about them and not feel like he's all bones with no meat or soul.
It’s unfair to ask Namjoon questions he won’t have the answers to. Yoongi wishes he won’t have to ask Namjoon for anything more at all when he’s received so much from him than he thinks he deserves. But all of this is spilling out onto Namjoon's trustworthy hands, and it's because Namjoon lets him and holds him through it until he's breathing normally again.
Yoongi clears his throat, looking up at Namjoon's patient eyes. He feels spent but relaxed. He can't handle more than cuddle tonight and tells Namjoon as much. Namjoon cups his cheek and Yoongi leans into the warmth, assuring him with kisses all over his face.
"We're still on for the 9th right?" Yoongi asks. "I know we need to get up early and leave as soon as, but I gotta get back to the studio in the afternoon."
Namjoon's nodding even before Yoongi got to the end of his sentence.
"Of course. Do I need to bring anything?”
Yoongi says no. “You have the book I asked for. But I can use a little help picking flowers?”
Namjoon is generous with his smiles, especially with Yoongi. He gives a stellar one right now, certain and happy to help, as he says, “You got it, darling. We’ll think of something together.”
His parents had never been picky about anything. They didn’t have that kind of luxury. But even then, they were welcoming and adaptable. When Yoongi had said he wanted to become a rapper, not a doctor, they scraped money to buy him his own microphone. They sat with him on bus rides to auditions. They signed all the documents that Big Hit Entertainment made them sign so their 18-year old son can work. They hid their snickers whenever Yoongi complained about Namjoon and his obnoxious ways of leadership during trainee days.
Would they have adjusted to the lifestyle he led now? Would they have been disappointed that he wasn't able to buy their old house? Would they approve of the home Yoongi built in their hometown in their name? They wouldn't approve of Yoongi using it as a vacation home for now, that's for sure.
Yoongi knew that his mom would’ve liked a bigger kitchen that held different pans for all sorts of meals. His dad would’ve requested to visit several architectural wonders of the world and then chastise him for spending so much money on those trips later on.
He could imagine their amused smirks if he had the chance to tell them that he ended up confessing to Namjoon that all those years of "hating" him had been a precursory to his inevitable feelings, that they were right all along.
" You got it bad for that boy, Yoongi-yah. "
" With all due respect, eomma, but that's a load of bull ."
" If he had pigtails, you'd be pulling them now. You've pulled at his hair once out of frustration, haven't you? Your silence speaks a thousand songs, son. "
" Abeoji! "
You were right, abeoji.
Yoongi could write a thousand songs about the way Namjoon sings in the shower. Namjoon likes singing his own songs. He's singing Smoke Sprite now in nothing but a towel around his waist. He's banging his damp hair while croaking out the lyrics. Meanwhile, his one-man audience is wearing his shirt and belly laughing on the bed. Dried tears and remnants of heartaches all but forgotten for a moment.
He turns up the showmanship to a hundred when Yoongi pulls out his phone. But the audio is likely picking up Yoongi's laughter more than Namjoon's singing, so Yoongi forgoes any evidence of this happening and just lives in it. He repeats the song over and over, even now that he's dressed, and he pulls Yoongi to his feet, jumping on the carpeted floor, so it's a duet instead of a solo performance.
They slow to a waltz, bones aching and lungs out of breath. But they’ve never been happier. Yoongi takes over, humming a ballad from Jungkook's playlist while they sway side to side. Namjoon melts in their embrace. So, Yoongi takes the lead now, tucking them into bed and turning the lights off completely on his word.
Namjoon snores in short warm breaths. Yoongi chuckles. The coffee he had is keeping him up. Although hearing Namjoon's steady heartbeat in his sleep is tempting, he is awake and thinking. He keeps his eyes open and staring, his heart vulnerable and spilling.
He spies the picture frame on the nightstand by Namjoon's side of the bed. Min Shinye and Min Gon smile brightly at him in bright colors against a white backdrop.
Yoongi finally decides to follow Namjoon into dreamland.
He feels much better about taking the morning off on the 9th after a successful recording session the day prior.
"They would've let you take the whole day off even if the building's on fire. It's your birthday," Jimin states, leaning on the doorway to his and Jungkook’s apartment. He's cradling Ara like a baby, rubbing her sides with his thumb. Behind them, Jungkook nods, fists scrubbing at his eyes.
They're leaving Ara under their care for the day. Yoongi intends to be back to get her in the afternoon. But Jimin won't have it.
"No, Ara-ssi and I are getting reacquainted with a sleepover. I'm her parent, too, after all."
"Jimin-ah," Yoongi's up at arms to bring his baby home later and not impose on his dongsaengs.
But Jimin shakes his head. "You can get her back tomorrow morning."
"But her food and bed—"
"We have some here. Hyung, didn't you hear what I said? I'm an excellent co-parent."
"Excellent is a bit of a stretch.'
It isn't. Yoongi knows that.
Jimin knows it, too. “Go celebrate your birthday." His smile turns fond. "And say hi to the folks for me."
Now it's Yoongi, Namjoon, and the road to Daegu. It's a drive he can do in his sleep. The whole way is uneventful, for the most part. Namjoon's snores accompany the playlist he chose. The bouquet wrapped in blue bounces on his lap but Namjoon's long fingers are wrapped protectively around the stems. It distracts Yoongi enough from the empty pit that's digging itself inside of him.
Namjoon wakes in a quiet stir. Once he's fully awake, he reaches out for their water bottle and takes a long gulp. He keeps the bottle uncapped, takes the straw they keep in a tin can inside the glovebox, and nonverbally asks Yoongi to drink. Namjoon takes a sip again from the straw, too, afterwards. He catches Yoongi's gaze.
"Indirect kiss," Namjoon states in a stage-whisper.
Deep within Yoongi, the dread unravels and out comes ropes and ropes of laughter.
"Good morning, Yoongi-ssi. RM-ssi," the guard at the garden gate greets with a lazy salute. Yoongi and Namjoon wave back.
They pass by the chapel first. Namjoon waits by the doors, while Yoongi says a quick prayer on the very last pew, taking Yoongi's hand in his as they make their way back to the car.
Yoongi then parks the car under a big oak tree. He knows that it takes fifty-three steps to get to the tombstones. But it doesn't get easier to reach them even with ten years of practice. He waits for Namjoon to get the bag they prepared. The car door shuts. Namjoon makes his way to Yoongi's side, careful not to touch or jostle Yoongi in his current state.
The morning blue skies are clear. The wind whistles and the leaves sway. They're calling out to spring, Yoongi knows it, and beckoning it to settle quicker. The gray arched stones all look the same on the green field. But Yoongi only has his sights on two. They call to him, too, like he's the spring that will end the winter.
He walks, and Namjoon follows closely behind.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Min," Namjoon greets them first, placing the bouquet in the middle of the two tombstones.
Their names are carved in bold serif fonts. The date of births differ, but the date that follows them are identical.
March 9, 2013
Namjoon and Yoongi unfold the blanket together, and there they sit side by side with their legs folded under them. Yoongi takes the book of architectural wonders from Namjoon's big bag. It's the one gift Yoongi asked from Namjoon on his trip. When he wordlessly hands Namjoon the big hardbound, Namjoon begins his story.
"It's been a while since I last visited. I'm sorry. I was here after Indigo, was it? Well. It's gone well in every way I didn't think it would and the ways Yoongi hyung said it will. He's always right." Namjoon lets out a breath of relief when Yoongi winds their arms together. He leaves a kiss on top of Yoongi's hair, encouraging Yoongi and himself. "This time around, well, I just got back from another trip. I brought my family with me. They told me to say hi to you. But, anyway. We went to Bilbao. There's a Guggenheim Museum there and—"
Namjoon goes on. His words, the way he speaks, are a lullaby that moves Yoongi's broken pieces around to reform him whole. When he reads from the books, he speaks slowly, savoring the information himself. When he speaks his mind, adding his own anecdotes and tidbits, he talks like he raps: fast and full of conviction. The image of Mr. Min and his expressions of awe and respect while listening to Namjoon talk about their aspirations as trainees resurfaces. He would have been pleased to know that they didn’t just make them happen—that they exceeded every expectation they ever had.
They would’ve loved to know what the seven of them had made of themselves and what Yoongi had achieved in their name.
It falls on him, then, just like it usually did whenever he visits their graves, the realization that they’ll never truly know. The weight is heavy on his shoulders and he slouches with it, grasping the cloth they’re resting on with both hands. Namjoon pries himself away but doesn’t stop talking, knows not to, and his voice softens.
“I promise to bring Yoongi hyung with me next time. Next time's a little farther away than we both like, though. Yoongi hyung already told you but we’re fulfilling our duties in a few months. I'm leaving first but he’ll follow after his tour.”
Namjoon’s voice wavers then. He closes the book and carefully takes Yoongi’s hand so he’ll be the one grounding him instead. Even if Yoongi’s nails dig into his palms, he holds on.
“I'm terrified, abeonim, eommonim. But that's okay. I'll be okay, and so will hyung and the rest of the team. Yoongi hyung and I, we're going to take care of each other. I'll do everything I can to protect him like he'll do for me. He can handle himself more than I can, really, but a promise is a promise. I just wish I could've made that promise to you in person. You'll be more assured that way. But to make up for it, I'll say it everyday to you in prayer.
"I love your son, Mr. and Mrs. Min. I'll continue to love and protect him for as long as he allows me to."
Namjoon believes, for Yoongi's sake, that souls from beyond the grave look over their loved ones. A man who knows no god believes in guardians and spirits to give Yoongi comfort. A man who never prays promises to do so in hopes that he'll be able to send a message to his beloved's parents about his devotion for their only son.
Yoongi's so surprised and moved he cries again, pressing back his sobs with the back of his hand. Namjoon moves to comfort him, cradling him against his chest, his own sniffling steady and muted.
They stay until noon, sitting and holding each other in silence. Namjoon heads to the car first to store the bag and get the heater going in the car. Yoongi stays and kneels and bows in thanks.
He smiles ruefully as he gets up to leave. It's been ten years. He spent the first few of those on this spot, rambling about dance practices and songs that won't stick to a rhythm. He spoke a lot about Namjoon in the following years. He's an idiot. But I'm a bigger idiot for falling in love with him , he said in 2017. The year after that, he came back to say, So, I guess I have a boyfriend now.
"You heard Joon. Eomma, abeoji. I'm in good hands. You were right about him all along. Maybe if… I wish you could see him right now. See us and how grossly in love we are." He clears his throat, touching their carved out names. "I know what you're gonna say and I will. I'll do right by him. If he accepts me for eternity, I'll love him for all that time and more. I promise."
The car seat is warm; the understanding look Namjoon's giving him from across the seat is even warmer. He looks at Yoongi like he hung the moon for him and he’s offering him all of the stars no matter how long it takes him.
There’s nothing Yoongi can do but look back and hope that Namjoon knows that he loves him, too. Maybe not in the grand way Namjoon does; Yoongi can’t hold the moon or stars for him. But what he can do is promise him trips when they return from their duties and keep them. What Yoongi will do is drink all the coffee Namjoon buys him, write him a thousand more songs, give him forehead kisses even if he has to stand on his tiptoes to do it.
“Good?” Namjoon asks, reaching over the console to wipe the tears away.
Yoongi nods, leaning to the one and only touch he craves. He can do this, have this, forever.
“I’m good.”
There's a comically large balloon on Yoongi's chair when he gets back to the studio from a meeting. A cat with a birthday hat sits in his chair. Its eyes are terrifyingly large and fucking hilarious. The sticky note on it says it’s Seokjin’s gift. Yoongi isn’t at all surprised.
And then there's a loud pop and people are singing the happy birthday song in the hallway, through the door he left open.
Hoseok is holding a chocolate cake with a singular cat figurine and three candles on top, Jimin is bouncing a bored-looking Ara in his arms, Jungkook and Taehyung are holding 3 & 0 balloons respectively, and Namjoon is standing behind them with free hands but singing the song the loudest like it's some contest. A couple of Yoongi's main staff are scattered around the small crowd, some holding their phones to record while others blow on toy horns.
Yoongi blows out the candles when he was encouraged to, complaining about how the candles make it look like he's turning 3 not 30, and everybody whose hands are free claps.
"Thank you, guys. Seriously," he says, close to tears again. His emotions are all over the place today.
Yoongi takes the cake from Hoseok. But Jimin reaches out and smears a tiny bit of chocolate frosting on his nose; everybody laughs. There are a bunch of cameras going off. Then someone, Hoseok, asks whether or not they’re having dinner before Yoongi does his birthday livestream. Everyone chimes in. Someone says they should just eat at the cafe. And someone scoffed at how bad of an idea that is because this is a birthday and it should be somewhere special!
“Hey,” Namjoon exclaims, catching Yoongi’s eyes and winking, “why don’t we all let the birthday boy decide?”
They all look at Yoongi with the very look he's still getting accustomed to, the one that melts all the coldest parts of him. A look of pride or fondness or love—whatever it is. What's important to him is that these people are here for him.
And he, in return, is there for them.
That’s what family's for, isn’t it?