Archive of Our Own ^beta

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His desk is all the way at the front, next to the window, closest to the teacher’s desk. He’s always slouching; it gets worse when he’s hyper-focused on something. He keeps accidentally elbowing his ruler off the desk just to pick it up and put it right back where it is near the edge. This innate clumsiness is the greatest blessing of all, truly; he’s never boring to look at, and the very best part of it all is this—the jerky motions of his hands as they dig through his worn-out Gundam pencil case, the sag of his shoulders as he sighs, the slow turn to the back, the hand that reaches out to touch the desk behind him, the moment their eyes meet through his thick glasses.

“Hoseok, can I borrow an eraser?”

There’s something there, surely. He could’ve just turned to ask Song Eunji who’s right next to him, he could’ve just crossed out what he wrote. That twist around is deliberate, and to a young Jung Hoseok, it’s everything.

That’s why he said yes to eating lunch together, to sharing a drink from the vending machine. That’s why he agreed to walk to the bus stop together after school was over, to share his notes for that history class where the teacher didn’t bother actually teaching.

That’s why on February 14th, after squinting to read the bubbly handwriting from a poorly-decorated letter extended towards him, Kim Namjoon carefully tucks it away and nods. “Okay.”

###

How did Jung Hoseok end up here?

When he was eight, a small dog belonging to his mother’s friend let him pet it, and he wanted to become a vet. In middle school, he beat a classmate at tennis and wanted to become a tennis player, then the vet dream came back briefly when his family got a dog, but then he won the highschool dance competition so surely that must be it. Maybe he would be happy with either of those three.

But through some strange twist of fate, a sudden drastic strike of lightning, the young aspirational Jung Hoseok blinked, and the classroom before him changed into a large dark, freezing warehouse.

He’s been up since five in the morning. The shoot started at seven and was supposed to end at 10pm. It’s now 1am and they’ve only just gotten halfway through the shooting board.

He sits on a camping chair in the darkness, squinting at where all the lights are set to illuminate a fake bathroom, with a fake vanity and a fake mirror. His young friend is in deep sleep next to him, head laid on his shoulder and letting out quiet snores that are completely muffled by the bustling sounds of production crew members scurrying to move equipment around. After the director’s call, the music that’s been on repeat the whole day starts again as the actress lathers her face up with foam for the ninth time.

He feels a tap on his shoulder. Just seeing Seokjin here is bad news. The guy seems aware of this too as he rolls his eyes. “Not like I wanna do it either. Is Taehyung fully asleep?”

“Seems like it,” Hoseok murmurs, trying to brighten up. “What is it?”

“The client has complaints about the set,” Seokjin murmurs.

“The set?” Hoseok turns to look at the monitor. It just looks like a regular bathroom.

“They said the tiles aren’t straight.”

Hoseok squints. “...The tiles?”

“The bathroom tiles don’t line up.” Seokjin points at the upper right area where the square tiles seem to droop down slightly. “There.”

On the chair next to him, his other teammate sits up. “What was that?”

“They said the tiles aren’t straight.”

“What the fuck do they expect us to do with the tiles?”

“Hyung,” Hoseok quips, jerking his head toward the clients who aren’t sitting too far away from them. He’s also wary of waking Taehyung up, although he isn’t sure if he should be; they are still working.

Seokjin is gripping his temple. “Look, Yoongi, I don’t care if you have to march onto that set and redo the tiles one by one yourself. Just give me something to tell them.”

“This shot is gonna be three seconds long at most,” Yoongi argues. “Who’s gonna be looking at the tiles?”

“Yeah, no, just….” Hoseok rubs his eyes. “Tell them we can take care of it in post.” They probably won’t, but alas.

What has he given up to get here, filming an advertisement for a face wash he’s never used, negotiating with the client about some tiles? His foolish teenage dreams, his hometown, his parents, his aging dog, and—

“I’m not going to Seoul for university.”

Hoseok curses under his breath, physically shaking his head in an attempt to flick the thought away. He really needs to sleep soon.

The shoot finally wraps up at three in the morning. Hoseok gets home at four, throws on his favorite sleep shirt, and passes out on his bed, but not before setting an alarm at eight.

###

Taehyung is the only one at his desk by the time Hoseok arrives at the office. “Sorry for sending the captions so late,” he murmurs sleepily. “My brain wasn’t working anymore after that shoot.”

“It’s fine,” Hoseok hums, dragging a hand through his hair. “The presentation’s this afternoon. I have everything memorized so you can take it easy today.”

Yoongi shows up with his eyes half open, replying to Hoseok’s greeting with a grunt. He sets up next to Hoseok then pauses, looking over. “...Seongmin’s team left already?”

Hoseok turns to the empty desks on his right, the entire half of their row void of monitors and little decorations. “Looks like it.”

Yoongi shrugs his coat off, draping it over his chair. “Any idea who’s gonna be sitting here? Yonghyun’s team?”

“It’s Jimin’s team,” Taehyung pipes up, eyes peeking out from behind the monitor. “We’ve worked with them a few months ago on that fashion thing.”

“Oh! They’re sitting here?” Hoseok lights up. “Jungkook didn’t tell me anything about this.”

“Cool, cool,” Yoongi murmurs, powering on his computer. “Can we go over the presentation now?”

The timeline of how Hoseok got to this point isn’t a straight line, and it’s far from anything he wanted to do. The job pays well, however. His team are capable people, and no matter what, in spite of how much he dislikes what he does, how challenging things can get, Jung Hoseok is unstoppable.

Coming into work after four hours of sleep? Not a problem. Redoing the graphics on the presentation last-minute? Not his first rodeo. Presenting the ideas to the client on behalf of his tired copywriter? Check.

Presentations are far less intimidating when the clients are no more than names on a group call in a small meeting room next to the bustling office. Everyone sits quietly as Hoseok explains the different ideas with all the faux enthusiasm he can muster up.

“And that concludes the four directions we’ve come up with,” he chirps, moving on to the last slide. “Here’s an overview of all four directions. We’ll send you a copy of this deck-”

Jung Hoseok is unstoppable. Or at least he has been until now.

Beyond the glass walls of the meeting room, his eyes catch a glimpse of something. It appears briefly for no more than a second, floating across the office, though there’s no denying that it’s him. It’s been almost eight years, but it couldn’t have been anyone else. Hoseok knew him too well.

Time resumes itself pretty quickly. All eyes are on him, alerted by the sudden halt. In a poor attempt to mask this slip-up, he clears his throat. “—Excuse me. We’ll send you a copy of this deck after the meeting…”

The bathroom is empty, and he considers filling the entire sink up and fully dunking his head into the water. That was him. That was definitely him. What the hell is Kim Namjoon doing here?

The obvious answer sits right above him, though his brain wanders for everything else. Sometimes people would sneak their friends into the office. Although quite rare, clients could come up to meet with the team here. There are a plethora of possibilities entailing that he doesn’t work here.

All of this quickly shatters when Hoseok leaves the bathroom to see Kim Namjoon sitting with a laptop at a desk, and his body automatically walks backward into the bathroom.

Kim Namjoon’s desk is right next to his.

“Hyung? Where are you?”

“Taehyung-ah,” Hoseok rasps into the phone, his voice echoing across the bathroom. “I came down to pick up the medicine I ordered. Do you think we can get a meeting room somewhere downstairs? I think we should discuss what the client said about the project.”

“Oh, sure. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” he croaks. “Just got a sore throat. Can you take my stuff down with you? I’ll meet you there.”

After a five-minute wait and another peek out of the door, he finds the desk void of Kim Namjoon, and like a prey hiding from a predator, quickly scurries out.

This is nothing, he chants in his head like a mantra as he tries to focus on the discussion. They’re in an enclosed space far away from the creative department. The office is big enough to avoid him.

This is absolutely nothing, he thinks to himself, growing more confident now as the team leaves the office to get coffee. As they’re waiting for the elevator, a familiar voice calls. “Oh hey, our caffeine cravings matched up,” Seokjin greets them. “I got five measly hours of sleep last night.”

“Five,” Yoongi scoffs. “I got three.”

Taehyung, who has situated himself similarly to last night with his head on Hoseok’s shoulder, blinks his eyes open. “You guys slept…?”

A few more co-workers join them by the time the elevator arrives. Hoseok does a quick glance back at the office and lets out a sigh of relief. The coast is clear.

The coffee shop on the ground floor is the team’s go-to. Yoongi always takes the lead when it comes to ordering, claiming to know everyone’s preferences. Hoseok looks down at his yuzu-infused americano concoction with a grimace, though he quickly flashes Yoongi a thumbs up when their eyes meet. He can’t help it—Yoongi always looks so proud, thinking that he’s got it right; who is he to take that away?

Hoseok has been too distracted by that thought to stay alert, it seems. As they wait for everyone to get their drinks, a crowd has just left the elevator and he curses everything that has its hand in making Kim Namjoon taller than average.

“Oh, Jimin’s team,” Seokjin points out, getting everyone’s attention. “Didn’t they move- what are you doing?”

Hoseok loudly shushes him, utilizing Seokjin’s wide build as he curls up behind him, making himself as close to disappearing as possible. “Please don’t call them over, I’m begging you.”

Yoongi reacts to all this with a lift of his eyebrow. “Who are you hiding from? Jungkook?”

“Why the hell would I hide from Jungkook?”

“Oh, do you know the new copywriter?” Taehyung asks.

Seokjin slowly catches on too, and now everyone’s looking at Kim Namjoon, following his team to their go-to shop across the hall. “What, you’re scared of the new guy? I thought you’d be into the big bulky ones.”

“No– but yes!-” Hoseok sputters. He didn’t anticipate being interrogated like this. “God…”

“Huh, I wouldn’t have thought this is how you’d act around a crush,” Yoongi comments.

“No!” Hoseok rebuts. “It’s not that. He’s… I know him.”

“Old friend?”

“Sort of…”

Yoongi squints. “Sort of?”

“We uh…” Hoseok gulps. “We dated in highschool for like three years.”

“Oh, shit,” Seokjin exclaims. “Don’t you want to say hi?”

“No!” Hoseok squeaks, ushering everyone to get their drinks. “Can we go back now?” This came as a question, though his co-workers have no choice. On the walk back, he makes sure to lay low, hiding between Seokjin and Taehyung, drinking his awful tangy coffee. Yoongi finds this whole thing ridiculous, unsurprisingly.

“Come on,” he nags, “highschool means nothing now.”

“Hyung, you don’t get it,” Hoseok hisses, tugging Taehyung a little closer to him. “I was horrifically, embarrassingly , head-over-heels for him. It’s not even funny.”

Yoongi doesn’t relent. “Everyone was cringey in highschool.”

“Not everyone got promise rings.”

Seokjin chokes, Taehyung barely manages to muffle his laughter, and Yoongi is completely shameless as he cackles. “Hyung, shut up!” Hoseok grits, straightening up out of frustration, but quickly notices Jimin’s team from afar and ducks back down. “Fuck. Hide me.”

They all comply wordlessly. No one says a word until they’re back in the elevator and Hoseok slumps against the wall. “I can’t help but think that this is a fruitless effort,” Seokjin says. “Isn’t his desk right next to yours? You’ll get caught eventually.”

Hoseok stares at the floor, undeterred. “Watch me.”

&&&

It takes one, two, then three turns of the rusty wheel for a little toy capsule to roll out of the machine. With both hands, Hoseok tries to pop it open, though soon gives up as he hands it to Namjoon who manages to open it with a suspicious cracking sound. The contents of the ball spill over the concrete floor; a paper manual and two thin rings.

“Promise rings,” Hoseok beams, picking them up. “Isn’t this perfect?”

“Which finger do you wear it on?” Namjoon asks.

“This one, obviously.” Hoseok takes Namjoon’s left hand easily, trying to slip the ring on his ring finger, though it barely goes past his first joint, not even when he pushes so hard Namjoon winces. He really shouldn’t be so disappointed by a plastic toy, though he can’t help the sinking feeling in his chest. “Oh..”

“I’ll keep it at home,” Namjoon quickly says, slipping the ring into his pocket. “That way I won’t lose it. What are we promising?”

Hoseok lights up again just like that. “Our future, then.” He takes both of Namjoon’s hands this time, intertwining their fingers. “Let’s go live together in Seoul for university like we agreed, then let’s get married once we graduate.”

The day is mercilessly hot, though they continue to bask in it together. Hoseok’s proposal makes Namjoon laugh, squeezing his hands. “It’s a promise.”

It really feels like proposing to someone. The sudden happiness a simple ‘yes’ has brought him is so immense he practically jumps for joy, shamelessly kissing the backs of Namjoon’s hands, alternating between each hand in quick succession.

###

Though spontaneous, Hoseok adapts to this sudden appearance quite well. Some of the work can be done at home, and heʼs been lucky enough that his team is always spending entire days at different recording studios and editing houses to overlook the projectʼs final stages, exhausting as it is.

He eventually forgets about it altogether, having not been to his desk for so long. Things have been smooth-sailing until the client raises a few sudden concerns and the team finds themselves cooped up in the meeting room for hours. Yoongi is circling around the table like he would find a new direction somehow. “Change the storyboard, they said… we’ve already shot the damn thing.”

“Itʼs fine,” Hoseok tries to say. “All we can really change right now is the caption and the narration, so letʼs just work on that. I can stay back with Taehyung today and we can split up the work later. Is that cool?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi breathes, making an effort to stay calm. “Yeah. Thank god for you, huh.”

Hoseok snorts at that, shaking his head as he looks through the old storyboard when the door slides open.

“Oh! Sorry. I think I left my charger here.”

This sudden rush of adrenaline isn’t unlike a frail prey getting caught by its predator. Hoseok immediately tenses, like a rabbit’s final line of defense, fully spinning in his chair to face the corner and staying like that, playing dead. He listens to the casual conversation between his friends and what was supposed to remain in his teenage phase, talking about the company and each team’s projects. He doesn’t move until he hears the parting words being exchanged, and the sound of the door finally closing.

“...Are you still hiding from him?” he hears Taehyung ask as he turns back around. “It’s been a month.”

“You’re really embarrassing,” Yoongi adds, deadpan.

“You don’t get it,” is all Hoseok can murmur out, skimming through the script on his laptop but not actually reading any of it.

“I get that you had an embarrassing teen phase,” Yoongi rebuts, making no move to focus on work, “but we all did. Namjoon seems like a nice guy, I’m sure he’s moved on from all that already.”

Hoseok groans into his hands. “He was my first boyfriend. Like ever,” he shudders. “I had the biggest crush on him too. It was just—I was so excited to have a boyfriend that I just wanted to try everything with him. It was the most humiliating part of my life and now I have a walking reminder of it at this job I hate.”

The room goes quiet after the sudden outburst. Hoseok spots Yoongi parting his lips a few times, trying to say something, but ultimately stopping himself. It’s difficult to fight both points. The office is a quiet space roamed by creatives who never quite made it; everyone has further aspirations, an end-goal that isn’t this. This is just what they know how to do, something to supplement a bigger dream that is currently in the form of a small online store or worn-out notebook kept at the top drawer. Hoseok hates this job, this cycle of disappointment, of wanting to make something good but getting turned down repeatedly to end up with some mediocre ad that satisfies the client. This sudden appearance of the guy who broke his heart eight years ago doesn’t really help alleviate the situation.

After a while, Hoseok clears his throat, breaking the silence as he goes back to revising the project to the client’s demands, trying to ignore the passage of time.

Yoongi goes home just as it’s gotten dark outside. Taehyung lets out another pitiful yawn as he slumps into his arms, trying to come up with more silly catchphrases. “Can I ask you something?”

Hoseok squints at the graphics program on his screen. “Is it related to this?”

“Nope. But I’m bored.”

“What is it?”

“What exactly are you so embarrassed about that you can’t even look at Namjoon hyung now?”

Hoseok considers cussing him out—just considers—but eventually decides against it. “He broke up with me,” he murmurs, “just as our final exams were over, and then I slowly realized that it was all in my head, this idea that he even remotely liked me. He was just too shy…too nice to say no.” His hands are still working, drawing out this odd shape in the program. “I think…even back then, in the back of my mind, I knew I liked him way more than he ever liked me, that’s why I never dared to ask him how he felt.” Where is all of this coming from? Why hasn’t he gotten over it? It’s so pathetic it makes him laugh. “That whole time, I was just dragging along this guy that I liked so much, when all he wanted then was just a friend. How can I even face him after that?”

“Wow,” is all Taehyung says, ever the great listener.

It makes Hoseok chuckle, not as rigid now that he’s let part of it out. “Yeah. Wow.”

They both shoot the security guard an apologetic smile by the time they’re done. Taehyung promptly leaves to the bathroom, and it’s completely dark out when Hoseok comes back to his desk, packing up his things. Only the lights at the doors are on, and he squints in the dark as he tries to gather his things.

After a long day, in the dark, his inhibitions low—that’s when it happens.

“Hoseok?”

It happens. Of course it does.

Namjoon’s eyes are wide, a genuine surprise that Hoseok can’t replicate.

“Namjoon-ah,” he says meekly.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Namjoon beams. In his effort to avoid this exact moment, Hoseok has only caught glimpses of him. Actually facing him now, he looks completely different from before. He’s taller—impossibly taller, his hair is cut short, showing off his whole face, unobstructed by long bangs or thick glasses. On top of all this, he’s…bulkier. Everything, from his physique to his presence, is bigger. “Been a while. You work here?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok breathes, nodding hazily. “I’m an art director here.”

“Oh! We’re in the same department then.” Namjoon points at himself. “I’m a copywriter. Started here last month.” He glances at his desk, then back to Hoseok. “Do you sit here?” A nod. “No way!” He points at the desk next to him. “I sit here.”

“Oh, wow,” Hoseok says in faux surprise, void of energy to make it sound convincing. “What a coincidence.”

“Huge,” Namjoon agrees through a rough chuckle. His laugh sounds the same. “Do you take the subway home? Maybe we can go together.”

“Ah, no, I drive,” Hoseok quickly says, heart pounding at the prospect of talking to him any more than this. “And I’m leaving with a friend. Later though,” he quickly adds at the thought of having to just walk out of the office with him. “I’m not done yet.”

“Ah, really?” Namjoon looks at the bag in his hand. “I thought you were packing up.”

“No, no, I just came to grab something,” Hoseok squeaks, dropping his bag back down. “Get home safe!”

“Oh.” Namjoon swings his bag over his shoulder, waving at him. “Great to see you again!”

“Yeah!” Hoseok chirps, using all his willpower to smile. It doesn’t fade, watching Namjoon turn around to leave. Only when he’s completely disappeared from his sight does it drop, and so does Hoseok’s entire body. “Ah, shit,” he curses, curling into himself. “Shit, shit, shit.”

On top of this awful humiliation, it really feels like a punishment from some higher being that Kim Namjoon is now this flaming hot, statuesque hunk that is the exact ideal type Hoseok so greatly loved to boast to his friends about after a few drinks.

It really can’t get any worse than this.

###

The worst month of Hoseok’s life soon ensues.

Or—well—he might be exaggerating the slightest bit. At least he doesn’t have to scurry away at any sudden glimpse of Namjoon or find refuge at another team’s desk until he’s gone. Still, having to actually acknowledge him now isn’t the best thing that’s ever happened either.

All of their interactions are small talk about work or the weather that day, and Hoseok didn’t expect it to be so uncomfortable that they’re both dancing around so many things. That’s probably the worst part of it all, this unspoken agreement between the two of them to not bring up certain things—not just the relationship, but how they’ve both come to meet at the office of some advertising company after the hours they spent musing about all the big things they’ll do one day. Here, where they can’t be any further away from what they had promised each other.

But maybe this is fine, or it will be. Hoseok is battling this tension and the way his brain melts seeing Namjoon’s physique upclose, but he’ll surely prevail.

“They’re bringing back the corporate workshop?”

“Heard them say it myself,” Seokjin boasts, sitting back on the empty office chair next to Hoseok’s, spinning around. “There’s gonna be one for each department. I might ask them to let me come to the creative department one so I can hang out with you losers.”

“Why would you want to hang out with losers?” Yoongi rebuts with a raised eyebrow.

“All the account executives are old people who’ll probably go on some meditation thing in the hills,” Seokjin grimaces. “No thank you. I’d rather get shit-faced at a summer home in the forest. Whose chair is this? It’s so low,” he comments, spinning around, the back of the chair haphazardly hitting the desk as he does so.

“Namjoon hyung’s.”

Jimin appears, skipping down the hall. He makes a beeline past his desk to casually take a seat on Hoseok’s lap. “Hello team. Are you going to get lunch soon?”

“Probably,” Hoseok answers, trying to shift around so that he can still see his laptop screen instead of pushing Jimin off. “It’s about time.”

“Oh, let’s go get lunch together!” another voice calls. Hoseok meets Jungkook’s eye from across the room and gives him a little wave. “It’s been a while.”

“Who’s that nerd over there?” Seokjin says suddenly. “Oh, you! I stole your chair.”

It’s humiliating how Hoseok’s unstoppable streak, this reputation he’s managed to build over the years at a large advertising agency in a job he despises; all of it comes crumbling down before his eyes when he turns to see Namjoon pushing his glasses up with his knuckles. The people around him turn to look at this apparent spectacle, pointing out how small the thick lens make his eyes look, how he must be blind as a bat. Namjoon doesn’t recoil away from the teasing, however, his posture doesn’t curl in, trying to hide like before. His back is still straight, openly chuckling at his own state, talking about how he had suddenly run out of contacts at home.

His hair is shorter than back then, he doesn’t look completely the same, but that doesn’t stop this strange wave of nostalgia that washes over Hoseok just from the sight of those frames sitting on his face, a key piece of the Kim Namjoon he used to be madly in love with.

It was just the two of them that night, out in the bustling main street of the city on a Friday night. The crowd grew overwhelming, shoulders bumping into them as they passed, until a sudden impact knocked Namjoon’s glasses off and onto the road, crushed into bits by dozens of shoes that were crossing. Hoseok kept Namjoon close by the hold on his arm, trying to navigate a blur of colors to the nearest store.

It became an amusing memory—all they had were colored contacts that Namjoon had never worn before, and Hoseok ended up struggling to fit them into his eyes in the small alley next to the store. Namjoon wasn’t all too happy as they headed home, not daring to look at himself with light brown eyes. Hoseok, on the other hand, couldn’t stop staring at him. I like you with the glasses, but this might be even better, he mused, trying to pull Namjoon’s hands away from his face. My handsome boyfriend.

The last line is suddenly vivid in his head, and he cringes so violently his hands ball up into fists, trying not to squirm inside this tiny booth right next to the other key detail of the memory. His friends still tease him about it from time to time, but leaving Namjoon to sit next to him feels less like some evil scheme they’ve conducted together and more of just how they’ve fallen into place. It’s worse like this—worse than just sitting next to each other in the office, minding their own business. Hoseok looks down at the size of his arm compared to Namjoon’s, laid an inch away from each other on the table, and tries everything in his willpower to keep the memories at bay; the times Namjoon cried, the one piece of affection that he accepted, Hoseok’s hand tangled in his as he sobbed quietly.

“Have you been to one of these?”

Namjoon’s voice catches him off-guard, eyes shooting up and away from their hands. “Sorry?”

Namjoon smiles, absentmindedly pushing his glasses up. “The corporate workshop thing. Have you ever been to one?”

“Ah yeah. Once,” Hoseok tells him. At least his voice doesn’t go hoarse every time he speaks to Namjoon anymore. Contrary to popular belief, he’s great at acting nonchalant and having things under control. “It’s pretty much just a free holiday. There’s a schedule for work activities but no one really follows it. That was a while ago though.”

“How long have you been working here?” Namjoon asks—and he’s not supposed to, is he? At least that’s what Hoseok thought. They’re not supposed to talk about how they got to this point.

Or maybe this has all been a silly psychological form of torture Hoseok’s mind has concocted. “Three years,” he says in a light voice and then, because he’s truly curious. “How did you get into copywriting?”

Beyond his glasses, Namjoon’s eyes go wide, clearly caught off-guard. “Well, I…” He covers it up with a chuckle, suddenly. “It’s a long story.”

Hoseok didn’t expect the dismissal. So it wasn’t in his head that they’re both avoiding this. Can they keep dancing around this? For how long? Before Hoseok can say anything, someone else at the table has gotten Namjoon’s attention so he quietly sits back, swallowing his words.

The teams separate to get coffee, and just as Hoseok thought he was safe with this awful citrusy concoction in his hand, Namjoon shows up again with his own drink, smiling still. “What did you get?”

“It’s just this sour yuzu americano thing hyung ordered for me,” Hoseok murmurs, taking a sip.

“Huh,” he hears Namjoon say, before he goes on to say the last thing Hoseok expects to hear from him. “But you don’t like sour things.”

It’s not a question; there’s no hesitance to it, no doubt about this fact. This small tidbit he learned probably a decade ago has come so easily to him.

Yoongi reacts first, turning to them. “You don’t?”

And that’s when Namjoon actually hesitates. “Did I remember that wrong?”

“No, no, you’re right,” Hoseok quickly says, though it comes out weak. “…You’re right.”

He belatedly worries if Yoongi would be upset; this is the one thing Hoseok has been trying to avoid by doing this, agreeing to whatever he orders just to keep him happy. Yoongi stares at him for a brief moment, then laughs in his face. “Why didn’t you say something, dummy? Should I get you another drink?”

“It’s fine! It’s fine,” Hoseok rebuts, taking another sour sip to prove his point. “I did this to myself.”

Next to him, Namjoon offers the americano in his hand. “We can switch, if you want.”

Hoseok looks down at the drink then up at him. “You don’t like sour things either.”

That surprises Namjoon, making him laugh sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, you’re right.”

&&&

Students exit the exam hall in a single file in complete silence. Murmurs begin to grow gradually as the crowd trails down the stairs, exploding into loud discussions once they’re outside. It takes no work for Hoseok to find his boyfriend in the crowd, head sticking up among everyone else. Namjoon doesn’t say anything when Hoseok clings to him. “Thank god I have you,” Hoseok muses, resting his head on his shoulder as they walk. “I wouldn’t have been able to answer half of that paper if I didn’t study with you.”

“You spent half the time kissing me,” Namjoon mumbles.

Hoseok laughs at that, though doesn’t deny it. “Can’t help it.”

“Can we talk?”

The question comes abruptly, though Hoseok foolishly doesn’t think much about it when he easily nods. Namjoon has grown quiet over the past few weeks, focused on the exam, yet the thought that something might be wrong has never crossed Hoseok’s naive mind. This blissful ignorance has steepened the hill at his feet when he’s suddenly pushed off.

“I’m not going to Seoul for university,” Namjoon tells him. “I’m staying here.”

It doesn’t take a genius to understand what he’s implying, but Hoseok isn’t ready to accept that just yet. “...But we promised.”

“We promised a lot of things,” Namjoon rebuts. Then quietly, he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

Completely defeated, just like that. His tone is dismissive and final. He parts his lips to say something else, but Hoseok lets out a hoarse laugh. “...So it’s over.”

They’re standing at the side of the school building near the parking lot, of all the places to break up at. Hoseok’s eyes are fixed on the cars behind Namjoon, reading the license plates in his head, blinking whenever his vision blurs. From the corner of his eye, Namjoon steps closer but he quickly steps away. “Don’t,” he pleads, focused on a dent on one of the cars, the slightly flat tires, willing his tears not to fall. “Please just leave me.”

Namjoon has his eyes closed when he turns back to look, mumbling out his final words, “I understand.”

###

Working under a huge global agency may entail big brands, horrible work days and demanding clients, but it can also mean a weekend at a rented summer home outside the city.

All of Hoseok’s friends are here, even Seokjin’s managed to join; that’s what he should focus on. He spends most of his time exploring area around the house, helping Yoongi out in the kitchen and washing up, trying to forget about work and anything else that’s been plaguing his mind.

He feels perfectly content even as everyone sits around on the floor of the living room that evening after dinner, glass bottles slowly piling up around them. Jimin is still sitting upright, though the ends of his sentences are slightly slurred. “Oh, is this Namjoon hyung’s first break since joining the company?”

Namjoon has a firm hold on his drink, nodding meekly. The sight of it all is a bit dangerous—loose shirt, shorts that ride up his thighs, the way he’s leaning back and holding himself up with one hand.

“God…” someone exclaims, and it’s not Hoseok. When he turns, Taehyung is frowning. “Namjoon hyung is like a quietly confident guy. Does anyone else get that vibe?”

“Oh yeah,” Seokjin quickly agrees, “Namjoon knows he’s hot.”

“Right? Right!” Jimin pipes up, pointing an accusing finger. “How did you get so confident? Did your mom call you handsome a lot when you were young?”

Comments like this would make anyone flustered, swatting the words away. Namjoon, however, doesn’t shy away from them. He laughs loudly, taking a sip of his beer. “No, no…” he says, smiling. “Not my mom.”

Hoseok feels his face heat up before he even figures out why, and when it does kick in, he wills all the drunken strength he has to keep himself composed and not react.

“Truth or dare?” Jungkook asks.

Yoongi blinks at him. “Truth.”

“Pussy,” Jimin murmurs.

“How much is your salary?”

Yoongi frowns at that. “That’s not even a fun question.”

“Yes it is,” Seokjin argues. “Let’s all compare notes now, why don’t we?”

Hoseok tunes them out as he drinks, not paying attention to anything else until he hears his name.

“Hoseok hyung.”

“I’m not a pussy.” Hoseok sets his drink down. “Dare.”

Jimin looks at him pointedly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “I dare you… to sit on Namjoon hyung’s lap for 20 seconds.”

Beer sprays across the floor, with Yoongi narrowly avoiding the splash zone with a yelp. Jimin’s cackle fills the air, figuring out his weakness. Did Namjoon tell him? Did Taehyung? That’s a more likely candidate. Shit.

The liquid courage—on top of the fact that he’s not a pussy—carries him across the circle to Namjoon, though reality quickly hits and he whips his head away. “Isn’t this a punishment for Namjoon too?”

“He’ll be fine,” Jungkook brushes him off. “Come on.”

Namjoon, like a menace, is laughing at the commotion as if he’s not a part of it. He shifts his hand away from his lap and Hoseok gulps, turning around.

“Do it facing him!” someone shouts, laughing maniacally when Hoseok yells back. “Come on! If you’re not a pussy.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Hoseok takes another swig of his beer and, without a single thought left in his head, crawls up to straddle Namjoon. “Start counting!” he yells, ignoring the cheers of five grown men. Namjoon is still smiling, though there’s an underlying layer of awkwardness in his gestures, not knowing where to look. His gaze meets Hoseok’s for a second before flickering away, looking at everyone else, down at his own lap, then back up.

They’ve done this before—maybe that’s the worst part about this. It’s their first time doing this in their twenties, first time doing it as a dare in front of people, not on their bedroom floors, not as a way for Hoseok to hog all of Namjoon’s attention. Eventually, Namjoon stops looking elsewhere, settling on just Hoseok.

In his drunken haze, Hoseok traces the curve of his eyes, the sharp corners, his dilated pupils. Someone finally counts down to zero and he wakes up, straightening up and off of Namjoon.

“Well done,” he hears someone say once he’s back in his spot, patting his shoulder. Yoongi only snickers when Hoseok glares at him.

“Namjoon hyung,” Jimin finds his next target, “truth or dare?”

Namjoon winces. “You guys are scary. Truth.”

“Tell me—” Jimin hiccups. “About your first kiss.”

“My first kiss?” Namjoon repeats. He looks down at his lap for a moment before his face lights up. “It was my boyfriend at the time. He said it was a birthday present.”

“How old were you?” Taehyung asks.

“Fifteen…” Namjoon snorts at the thought. “Still in highschool.”

If Hoseok comes across a time machine, he’d use it for the sole purpose of going back in time to beat his teenage self up for being so terribly stupid, then maybe console him after because it sucks to feel this way, then he’d tell him that he understands, and that it doesn’t get better.

Hoseok tosses and turns in his sleep, trying and failing to relax. The bed is comfortable and clean, he has his favorite, perfectly worn-out sleep shirt on, Taehyung is dead asleep in the bed opposite him, but he still can’t sleep.

He eventually gives up with a sigh, getting up and coming down to the kitchen to make himself tea. The bathroom door nearby is closed, with warm orange light shining just under the small gap. Hoseok pays no mind to the flushing sound followed by the door unlocking, not until he hears his voice. “You’re awake.”

Hoseok clears his throat, attempting a casual lean against the counter. “Yeah. Felt thirsty.”

Instead of leaving for his room, Namjoon approaches the kitchen. He has his glasses on. “What did you make?”

“Honey lemon tea,” Hoseok murmurs, then, when Namjoon says nothing, finds that he has no choice. “Want me to make you one?”

They’re quiet for a while, and that’s new for them; to nurture a silence between the two of them late into the night. Namjoon doesn’t say much after thanking Hoseok for the tea, though eventually he breaks. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”

Hoseok blinks at him confusedly. “What?”

“I’ll go,” Namjoon says anyway. His demeanor changes from the usual upbeat one he plays in front of his co-workers to something more reserved. “I couldn’t find any music label that would hire me as a writer, so I switched to writing a manuscript for a novel, but none of the publishing houses would buy it and I had no connections.” His grip on his mug tightens before relaxing again, taking a sharp inhale. “So I got into copywriting instead. Started in a small company in Ilsan, then I got recommended to the one here. It’s not ideal, I really don’t like it all that much, but it’s something.”

The frankness catches Hoseok by surprise, the sudden revelation that it hasn’t only been him who tiptoed around their past. The shame doesn’t catch up to him when he speaks. “I couldn’t get into the veterinary school and the dance academy wasn’t worth the expense. I ended up studying broadcasting, worked at a production house for a year or so, then I taught myself to use different graphic softwares, got a few freelance jobs here and there for it, then I signed with this agency. I don’t like it either.”

Quietly, he hears Namjoon chuckle. “You did a lot.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok admits, and is it the quietness of the night that’s making everything so easy to say? “I failed again and again. I think a part of me was scared of what you’d say, seeing me here,” he confesses. “I told you I wanted to be a vet or a dancer. I left to Seoul with all these big dreams just to end up here…I couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking I’ve failed.”

“I did wonder,” Namjoon admits after a moment’s silence. “But then it feels wrong to do that. I’m in no place to be judging you. Not when this wasn’t what I told you I wanted to do either. I don’t think it’s fair to hold who you were eight years ago against you now.” Then he laughs, hoarse. “I’ve never thought that you’ve failed though. I was never mad at you for breaking up with me.”

… What?

Hoseok turns to look at him, the flusteredness long gone. “...You broke up with me though.”

It’s Namjoon’s turn to be comically shocked, eyes widening through his glasses. “What? No, it was you. Weren’t you the one who said it?”

Hoseok sputters, the quiet they’ve been cradling long gone. “You were the one who said we should talk!”

“What—” Namjoon looks genuinely surprised, then as the thought settles, a slight sadness creeps through his voice. “...You thought I was breaking up with you?”

And Hoseok is completely lost again. “...What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t afford to go to Seoul,” Namjoon says, “so I was going to ask if—” He pauses, suddenly letting out an embarrassed laugh. “I was going to ask if we could keep dating, long distance and all, and maybe I’d move there once I saved up enough, and we could…continue with what we planned.” His laughter fades quickly, recalling the moment. “...But then you said it was over and I could tell you were going to cry because you were trying to distract yourself, but you wouldn’t let me go near you, so that was it.” He eyes Hoseok. “...Or so I thought.”

“I really thought—” Hoseok doesn’t know what to say. “I accepted it just like that.”

“I don’t blame you for that, honestly,” Namjoon says, looking away but still gentle. “Looking back, I didn’t do anything for you to think otherwise.”

Namjoon didn’t hate him. Namjoon didn’t want to break up. Where would they be now if that misunderstanding never happened? Will Hoseok never realize how foolishly he acted? Maybe this distance was good, a free space for them to observe each other in detail and reflect.

Suddenly, Namjoon lets out a long exhale. “This is just—wow. I’m glad we could talk. I would’ve gone my entire life thinking you hated me for breaking that promise.”

“It was a stupid promise,” Hoseok murmurs, putting his lips to his empty mug just so he could cover his face. “We’d be married by now if we actually kept it.”

Namjoon laughs at the thought, and the shame that usually washes over Hoseok when reminiscing this just dissipates. He finds himself smiling too. “I’m pretty sure I still have the ring,” Namjoon says in a light voice, then as if he’s never said it, turns to leave his mug in the dishwasher. “I’m really glad we could talk.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok breathes, ducking down to do the same. Behind him, he hears Namjoon stepping back, then pausing.

“Is that my shirt?”

Hoseok straightens up and turns to see a confused Namjoon, pointing at him. Hoseok looks down at his own shirt, oversized, the neckline stretched wide. The print on it has almost completely faded, leaving remnants of discoloration on the fabric. Hoseok looks back up. “...Is this your shirt?”

“It has my name on it,” Namjoon points out, squinting. “On the back…oh, was this one of those custom shirts we got for that Busan field trip?”

Panic shooting up his spine, Hoseok does an awkward twist, trying to look at the back of the shirt. The faded name spread across the top vaguely spells out ‘ Kim Namjoon’. How the hell did he miss that? “I guess it is your shirt,” Hoseok says in a hoarse high-pitched voice, fumbling with the hem. “Do you—do you want it back?”

“No, it’s fine,” Namjoon quickly says, “I don’t—particularly need it.” Then, like all of this is still a joke to him, he laughs. “So that’s where it went. I guess we’re both a little embarrassing.”

Hoseok laughs too, though he can still feel his entire face heating up. Namjoon is trying to make everything normal, he realizes, to make this past something they can both poke fun at instead of feeling ashamed.

This gentleness isn’t new, Hoseok thinks as he trails after him up the stairs to their rooms. Even the Namjoon back then, who no matter how much Hoseok bothered him with his affection, was always gentle.

Maybe it’s bad that Hoseok never really let go, even though he thought he did. He grips at the hem of his shirt, this piece of Namjoon that brought him the most basic comfort over the years, something that he didn’t even realize was Namjoon’s doing. Why hasn’t he let go?

Namjoon doesn’t leave right away when Hoseok reaches the door to his room. “I’ve been meaning to say this, but…” his voice is hushed, wary of everyone else sleeping around them. “I’m really glad we met again.”

And maybe this is why.

“Namjoon-ah,” Hoseok murmurs. 

His build is different from before; the width that Hoseok’s arms drape around, the plane of his back, the shoulder that he hides his face in. His hesitance is the same, however, the delayed response like he has to process the touch, the light brush of his fingers over Hoseok’s hair. That hasn’t changed, after all these years, and Hoseok still remembers it all in detail.

“I missed you.”

###

The next evening, after dinner is done and cleared up, everyone else settles to watch a football game in the living room.

The hiking trail is lit up by small lamps along the way, though Hoseok keeps his phone’s flashlight on as they carefully take each step. “Is this really worth it?”

“It is,” Namjoon assures him, making his way up easily. “I promise.”

Younger Namjoon usually kept to himself, sitting inside while looking out over the commotion of sweating teenagers chasing a ball. Now, he’s found something in being active and working out, grandly changing his physique. He lets out a groan once they’ve reached the top of the hill. “See? Isn’t that nice?” he marvels at the starry sky above them. “You don’t get views like this in Seoul. Those guys don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

Hoseok is half-certain that no one else tagged along so it could just be the two of them, but he doesn’t say anything as he sits himself down on the rocky ground next to Namjoon. “It’s nice.”

“Told you it was worth it,” Namjoon says, rummaging through the plastic bag they brought with them, handing Hoseok a beer. Hoseok feels like he can hear Namjoon’s hesitance now, the gap in his speech that he leaves to reconsider before deciding to go with it. “I missed you, too.”

Hoseok smiles at that. “Did you really?”

“Yes really,” Namjoon rebuts with a laugh. “Of course back then it wasn’t perfect. I had a lot of regrets.”

That hurts slightly, Hoseok hates to admit it. “Yeah.”

“I’d kick myself every time you walked away,” Namjoon goes on to say. “Just mad at myself for not knowing what to do, where to put my hands.” He sighs. “What a waste, I used to think, being this incoherent mess around the boy of my dreams.”

What did he just say?

Hoseok looks up at him. “...What?”

“I mean, I was crazy about you,” Namjoon admits with a chuckle, and Hoseok isn’t processing any of this. “I had always admired you. It felt surreal when you asked me out, I just never expected it to happen so I had no idea what to do or how to behave. I couldn’t understand why you liked me.”

This can’t be real. Hoseok tries to look around to see if anyone was hiding behind the shrubs, trying to muffle their giggles at how he’s going to react. No one is here but them, yet Hoseok still feels like he’s dreaming. “What—” he chuckles. “What did I even do?”

“What didn’t you do?” Namjoon rebuts, laughing too, though he quickly calms down. “You made me feel like something. Like everything, really. I wasn’t kind to myself, but you were. Everything I hated about myself, you loved. You know I—” It’s an old habit, Hoseok realizes, for him to chuckle when he’s nervous. “I used to think that I was too small compared to the world to be anything important so maybe I’ll just let life pass me by, but you didn’t.” He looks at Hoseok and his gaze is clear. “You didn’t just sit with this crush you had and let it be just that, you didn’t wallow in it and overthink it until you decided to give up because it’s pointless.”

And that—Hoseok doesn’t know what to say to that. “I thought you just wanted a friend,” he mumbled.

Namjoon smiles, more to himself than anything as he admits, “You were never just that.” Then, after a short pause, he speaks up. “I’ve thought about it more than I’d like to admit, honestly. I used to wonder what you’d do if we ever met again. Would your eyes light up once you recognize me? Would you smile? Would you treat me like an old friend? Silly things like that.”

Hoseok looks down at his feet. “Bet you never thought I’d be painfully awkward and lie to your face.”

“No, not really,” Namjoon laughs. “I’m really happy though. To see you again. Happier than I ever imagined.”

That makes Hoseok laugh, though it comes out as more of a scoff. “Why?”

When he looks up, Namjoon is already looking at him. “Because.”

No explanation comes after that, as if it doesn’t have to be said or it can’t; not in words. For a while, Hoseok just looks at him.

This Namjoon now, rid of his shyness but not completely, the remnants of it still creeping up in the crevices of his gaze, his lips; Hoseok isn’t sure if the draw of them is still here after all this time or if he himself has reverted to his seventeen-year-old yearning.

Namjoon’s gaze is still, looking, though it shifts and soon breaks. “Oh my god, you still do it.”

Hoseok blinks. “What?”

“The thing!” Namjoon exclaims, almost ecstatically. “You still jut your lower lip out when you want a kiss.”

“What—” Hoseok sputters, a hand coming up to cover his mouth, minutely pushing his lower lip back in. “No I don’t!” Why did Namjoon even say that out loud?

It’s all futile when Namjoon is still cackling away, muffling the sound of it with his hands and ending it with a long sigh. “Seriously, I think that first kiss changed my life.”

Hoseok is still covering his mouth. “You’re just saying things now.”

“I mean it,” Namjoon insists. “I felt wanted. I felt adored. I felt like—like just because I was a miniscule part of the world didn’t mean that I wasn’t important. I still meant something to someone.”

Above them, the stars hang quietly around the moon, scattered across the night. They’re meant to be seen all together, Hoseok thinks. A single star may seem unimportant across the vastness of the sky, though as a whole, along with the many dots of light, they complete a scenery people leave the city and trek up hills to find.

Hoseok sees the stars reflected in Namjoon’s eyes, and he thinks he’s starting to understand it all. “I don’t think it’ll change your life again,” he whispers, removing his hand from his mouth.

Namjoon only shrugs, though he closes his eyes when Hoseok’s face nears him.

It’s a harmless touch, light as a whisper, an innocent peck on Namjoon’s closed mouth. Hoseok feels like a teenager, feeling that silly flip in his chest. He lets himself linger shortly before pulling away, not expecting the glossiness of Namjoon’s eyes when they look at each other.

Without another word, Namjoon leans in to kiss him.

This is a first, his brain yells in terrified delight, he’s never done this before. It was always Hoseok who initiated, always Hoseok asking for it and leaning in. It was always Namjoon accepting him, always Namjoon waiting for him to come closer because he never dared to ask or make that first move.

Namjoon kisses him, and it shouldn’t feel all too different, but Hoseok keeps forgetting to breathe, caught off-guard by every move, the way he does it again and again like he’s reached a sudden epiphany that he can do this, and all Hoseok is able to do is try to catch up.

“Namjoon,” he breathes when the kiss breaks, flustered beyond imagination, heart pounding up his throat.

Namjoon’s breathing is heavier than before, though his eyes are still fixed on Hoseok’s when he asks, “Are you one for second chances?”

Hoseok blinks at him, waking up from the haze. “You mean…”

The curt nod he gets in response is endearing, and the sight of Namjoonʼs flushed cheeks is one he hasn’t seen in a long while. “It’ll be different, obviously, but…” Namjoon clears his throat. “I promise I’ll be better this time round.”

“You…” Hoseok trails off into a chuckle. Is this really happening? “You want to?”

“It’s worth a try,” Namjoon murmurs, and he sounds so determined that Hoseok’s brain is starting to believe it.

So he reaches for Namjoon’s hand, interlacing them the way he used to, squeezing it once. “Let’s give it a go then.”

###

Coming in to work at the office isn’t mandatory and is left for each team to decide how they want to work. Yoongi, despite being a huge homebody, is insistent that the most efficient way to work is when everyone’s all together in a work setting. Not a lot of people are here today, based on the rows of empty desks Hoseok can see throughout the office.

“I heard that that barbeque place is open again,” Yoongi announces as he shoves his laptop into his bag. “Wanna go?”

“I’m down,” Taehyung quickly pipes up, rolling his wires up. “What about you, hyung?”

“Me?” Hoseok looks up at them from his chair. His bag is already packed and laid on his desk. “Oh, I have plans already. Sorry.”

“Plans,” Taehyung repeats in a sassy tone, wiggling his eyebrows. “With whom?”

Yoongi snickers as he swings his bag over his shoulder. “You know who.”

Hoseok just rolls his eyes, not as bothered by their antics now after three months of the same jokes. “Yeah, yeah. You guys have fun.”

Taehyung doesn’t drop it even as he turns to follow Yoongi out of the office. “And you’re waiting for whom?”

“Obviously the hunk he’s dating,” Yoongi answers for Hoseok. He’s probably hungry, rushing down to the door. “Client presentation tomorrow at two,” he speaks up before disappearing down the hallway with Taehyung at his heels.

Hoseok spends around thirty minutes on his phone, reviewing his notes for tomorrow and scrolling through different social media feeds until he spots movement at the desk next to his. Namjoon doesn’t say anything when their eyes meet, only smiling sweetly as he picks up his bag.

They go out for dinner, talking about all the headaches at work and feeling a little lighter once it’s all out. They understand each other; perhaps this is the silver lining of being in the same job that they both hate. Hoseok doesn’t have to explain why it’s frustrating that the presenter for this project keeps changing, and he knows what to say when Namjoon talks about how he got muted in the middle of a call with a client.

The subway platform is busy at this time, with everyone trying to get home. Namjoon stays close to him, the hand on his arm switching to his waist when they enter the crowded train, willing him not to get swept away by the commotion.

Hoseok won’t admit how much he’s enjoying this, at least not out loud now that he’s leaning against a glass divider with Namjoon pressed up to him. “Do you have work tomorrow?” he asks, looking up.

“Just two meetings in the morning,” Namjoon tells him, swaying closer when the train comes to a halt. “And I’ll have to work on that yogurt commercial but it shouldn’t take long. Are you going into the office tomorrow?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “We’re presenting it online.”

Namjoon smiles. “You can do it at my place if you want. We can go out for brunch after my meetings and come back to work.”

This is great. This is unbelievably great. Hoseok wasn’t sure what to expect, getting back together with a boy he dated in highschool, but his mind gradually eases into it every day, chipping away at the belief he had held for the past eight years that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. Namjoon is more expressive now, more sure of himself and his wants, unafraid to say it aloud. It makes Hoseok feel weak in the knees sometimes. “Sounds good.”

Winter is approaching, making its entrance through the cold wind that bats against Hoseok’s face mercilessly as they walk to Namjoon’s apartment. “Ah, your hair,” Namjoon says once they’re inside and, very carefully, reaches out to comb back Hoseok’s hair. His voice lowers, “Must’ve been the wind.”

His face is closer now, and Hoseok waits for the moment he leans in, patiently still, though it doesn’t happen. “There. Wanna watch a movie?” Namjoon asks as he swiftly heads to his kitchen area and rummages through the fridge.

Mentions of their families have come up from time to time. Hoseok didn’t know that Namjoon still spoke to his parents occasionally after he had left for Seoul. “Maybe we could plan our next visit together,” Namjoon suggests, barely paying attention to the movie playing in front of them.

“Maybe,” Hoseok hums. “I can’t imagine how my parents would react to this.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Maybe they’ll be pleased to know that you’re less touchy now.”

Hoseok laughs at the thought. That was his mother’s one gripe about the whole thing—not that Hoseok was dating a boy, but that he didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself, always clinging to him. Hoseok likes to think that he’s a lot more well-behaved this time round as the grown-up that he is, keeping to himself at work despite Namjoon sitting next to him, not petulantly coaxing for his attention all the time.

He’s still well-behaved as he slides into Namjoon’s bed that night, admiring the extensive bookshelf in the corner of his room. He hears a clatter of Namjoon’s glasses hitting the nightstand, then a call of his name.

“Hoseok-ah.” Namjoon smiles when Hoseok turns to him. “Come closer.”

And this—Hoseok loves this, being in his hold, seeing his face up close. That incident at the company workshop was too sudden, frazzled by drunken nerves being surrounded by his co-workers. Here, it’s just them, and no one’s here to laugh at him if his smile looks a little stupid.

He looks at Namjoon, who’s unconsciously squinting at him. “Can you see me better like this?”

“Yeah.” Namjoon quickly blinks back into focus. “But I just wanted you close,” he admits, laughing at himself. “I’m trying my best here. I’m trying not to be nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” Hoseok asks, biting his lip. “Is that why you haven’t kissed me today? Or are you not used to initiating?”

Namjoon’s smile stretches into a grin then. He shifts himself up, suddenly, moving Hoseok to lie on his back as he hovers over him. “You want me to initiate?”

At Hoseok’s quiet nod, he leans down, slowly, the tip of his nose touching Hoseok’s and dragging up, feeling the slope of Hoseok’s nose before pressing his lips to Hoseok’s forehead, gently moving down to his eyelid, his cheek, his jaw, down to his neck. “Joon-ah,” Hoseok breathes, tilting his head up once he feels light touches along the column of his throat. “That tickles,” he says lightly, but Namjoon doesn’t stop, not until Hoseok is squirming and pushing at his shoulders with a laugh. “Seriously.”

It makes Namjoon laugh too, muffling it shakily into Hoseok’s shoulder. It’s pure bliss when Namjoon actually comes back up to kiss him, slow and indulgent. They’d pause to look at each other for a brief moment, then Namjoon would kiss him again.

“You still feel weird, don’t you?” he asks, pulling away to lay on his side again.

“A bit,” Hoseok admits sheepishly. “I never thought this would happen.” 

Namjoon smiles. “That we’d be cuddling like this?” 

“That we’d even get back together,” Hoseok corrects breathily, looking at him. “It’s surreal to me.”

He expects Namjoon to laugh again. His smile stays, though his eyes curve down. “Is it that hard to believe that I like you?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hoseok murmurs. His hand comes up to Namjoon’s cheek, caressing it, feeling the roughness of his stubble under his thumb, making sure that he’s real. “I used to hold your hand to school every day, and try to kiss you when we were alone even when you said we shouldn’t. I made you give me a piggyback ride when I sprained my ankle on sports day and sat on your lap whenever you paid attention to something else.” He drags his thumb under Namjoon’s lips, brushing over his mole. “I thought my affection was a burden to you, so I guess I became more careful, after everything. Internally, I don’t want to get carried away and feel like that again.”

Namjoon is quiet as he talks, waiting until he’s finished. “You were never a burden, and I always liked you. I liked everything you did even though it scared me at the same time. Even now…” he trails off, then his expression shifts, hesitating, then smiling. “Even now, I’m nervous.”

His hand reaches for Hoseok’s, pulling it from his face and down, past his shoulder to his chest, resting it there.

Hoseok doesn’t get it right away, but then he feels it, the rapid thrumming under his palm. “Is this…”

“Real?” Namjoon chuckles, blushing now. “Not sure how I’d fake it.”

All of Hoseok’s restraints come undone at that moment. Namjoon laughs when he’s suddenly toppled over onto his back. Hoseok can feel it as vibrations against his cheek, gasping when he hears the persistent beating of Namjoonʼs heart. “It’s real.” He lifts his head, looking back up at Namjoon. “Has it always…?”

“Always,” Namjoon says sheepishly, laughing again when Hoseok presses his ear to his chest, listening to it.

“Always,” Hoseok repeats in a whisper, feeling a hand come up to pet his hair and fluttering his eyes closed.

After a while, the sound gradually changes. “It’s slowing down,” Hoseok realizes, then lifts himself up to kiss Namjoon on the mouth, quickly, before coming back to listen to it, gasping when he hears it speed up again. “Holy shit.”

“God, this is embarrassing,” Namjoon says through a laugh, though makes no move to push Hoseok off.

To meet him again in the casing of a new person has been daunting. To have gone through eight years of growth and failure and tribulations just to run into the time before it all happened, learn that so much has changed and discover that some things haven’t. To have known him before and to meet him now, to see both versions superimposed into one growing entity and still yearn for him above it all, knowing that he had been searching, too…

They were looking for each other in quiet ways, sailing through hypotheticals, living with reminders of each other, be it a cheap promise ring or an old shirt; the way he laughs or how he holds; what he tries to do to stop himself from crying; holding onto it all so that perhaps it would be an instant recognition, a feeling that creeps up before their eyes even meet.

“Namjoon,” Hoseok whispers, and feels his throat tighten. His vision blurs, and concern washes Namjoon’s face when he looks up, though soon his expression softens, understanding, and he smiles.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, tightening his hold. “Me too.”