pull me closer

by ofpleiades

Summary:

jungkook just had a baby. it's a shame his husband doesn't seem to want him anymore.

Notes:

hi! this is something that's been sitting in my mind for awhile and finally we've found the words to put it all together as one.

warning you now: this fic contains a/b/o dynamics (not overt save for the mentions of scent and presentation), past mpreg (jk just gave birth to baby soobin), memories of a traumatic birth that are briefly mentioned here, and mentions of post traumatic stress following said birth. if any of this is triggering to you, PLEASE close out of this window.

and for the souls who continue--thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Jungkook knows he’s biased, but Soobin might be the sweetest baby he’s ever seen. He keeps scrolling through the photos he has of his son on his phone while the pup is sleeping in his bassinet, and even then he’s torn between cooing over the memory and touching a finger to Soobin’s soft, soft cheek. He smells like milk and warmth and love, the perfect mix of Namjoon’s earthy, mossier scent and Jungkook’s sweeter one reminiscent of peaches. If Jungkook really takes the time to consider it, he thinks Soobin might one day present as fresh lychees just broken from the skin, plushy flesh sweet as juice runs down sticky fingers.

For the most part, though, the baby is Jungkook’s dream come true. He’s always known his dream of wanting to be a father, identical to his mate’s, and it was really a matter of time before a rut or heat or something or other finally aligned for Jungkook belly to grow and swell with child. No one had expected it to be a result of a goat yoga class, though.

Taehyung had dragged Yoongi, and by extension the two of them, to a class held at Jimin’s new studio, and the rest really had been history. Giggles over Namjoon’s exaggerated gasps as baby goats hopped onto their backs had turned into the two of them stepping into the shower at home hand in hand, followed by powerful thrusts from his alpha into Jungkook’s tight, wet heat over and over again. Jungkook remembers the tug of Namjoon’s knot as they shifted to get comfortable, the way Namjoon ran his hand through his hair and whispered how good Jungkook was for him, how lucky Namjoon was to be with him. It isn’t a day Jungkook thinks he can ever forget.

Over six weeks later, Jungkook had spent nearly every morning with his head in the toilet before Yoongi wordlessly slid over one of Taehyung’s unused pregnancy tests following a workout session at the gym. Jungkook had been lifting weights while Yoongi watched, and an I’m here to keep my eye on you was the only explanation Yoongi offered. Jungkook had let him get away with it because he’s soft like that. He never could’ve expected what would come tumbling out of Yoongi’s side pocket and right into Jungkook’s apparently waiting hands, though.

Jungkook bought two more at the drugstore on the drive home, insides feeling like the fizzy hiss of a soda can freshly popped open as the paper boxes rusted around in a nondescript plastic bag. He remembers the carton of watermelon gummies and choco mushrooms he’d bought on a whim, the way his still sweaty shirt clung to his shoulders as he drove the rest of the way home.

The more the merrier is all Namjoon had said with a smile beaming across his face. Jungkook hasn’t been able to lift so much as a grocery bag since his three positive pregnancy tests that one sweltering day in June.

Now, Soobin has just begun sleeping through the night, and at twelve weeks postpartum, Jungkook’s doctor has finally cleared him for all forms of sexual activity with his husband.

“Sex, hyung,” Jungkook says when he barges into Namjoon’s office that day, eyes wide with possibility, too excited at the prospect of getting fucked within an inch of his life to consider anything else. Soobin is fast asleep in his nursery, and if they’re fast, they might be able to pull it off. It’s been months since the last time Jungkook was able to get his hands on Namjoon; he knows he can make it quick.

Namjoon freezes from where he must be taking a call because the next thing Jungkook knows, he hears Hoseok cackling loudly over the speakers. It’s with a sheepish wave that Jungkook retreats back out of the doorway and listens with pounding heart as Namjoon clears his throat and tries to return to his meeting.

Jungkook doesn’t take it personally, just changes his approach.

The next night (he can’t do it that same night because of course, this is when Soobin decides to have a blowout in his mini bathtub), Jungkook is lying in bed staring at the ceiling as Namjoon flips through the pages of the latest Ishiguro novel he’d pre-ordered from the bookshop months ago. He’s entranced as he flies through the pages, and Jungkook is tempted to press the pad of his pointer finger between his brows to ease the tension there.

“We should have sex,” Jungkook musters, eyes still pointed resolutely at the ceiling.

There’s no answer from him. Namjoon must definitely be entranced by the book about AI and robots in real life because there’s no way that Kim Namjoon, the biggest pervert and fiend for Jungkook’s body that may exist on the planet, does not want to have sex with his husband.

“We should fuck,” Jungkook tries instead, again to no avail.

Namjoon gets like this sometimes, so into a book that he forgets all idea of time and space, completely transported into another world. Jungkook hopes Soobin inherits his father’s love of reading, thinks how cute his son will be with little glasses of his own as he devours chapter book after chapter book.

But thinking about his son for too long will only distract Jungkook further away from what he set out to do.

“I haven’t felt your knot inside me in so long that just the thought of your huge alpha cock is enough to get me wet now.”

His husband pauses where his hand is raised to turn the page, and Jungkook knows he has to have heard every single word if the sudden tang of arousal in the air is anything to go off of.

“Maybe,” Namjoon says noncommittally before closing his book and setting it on his nightstand. He flicks off his lamp, slips his glasses off, and burrows into his side of the blankets, back turned to Jungkook.

Message received.

 

 

It’s really difficult now for Jungkook not to take this personally, but he knows it’ll be worth the effort. Maybe Namjoon doesn’t want to be intimate with Jungkook—at face value, he respects that. The pang of rejection permeates in his chest, though, regardless of what excuses he makes for his mate.

Maybe he’s waiting for your six pack to come back.

Namjoon will be attracted to you again when your breasts aren’t leaking with milk every five seconds—how inconvenient.

And the one that might be the hardest for Jungkook to swallow, because if this is the case (and he suspects it likely is), it means that Namjoon is witholding his own grief from him in the name of protecting Jungkook. He knows his mate, knows the way he works.

Namjoon remembers seeing Jungkook all the way at death’s door.

 

 

Jungkook’s real plan takes a little longer to execute considering he has to take his measurements all over again while Namjoon is occupied with the baby, but it’s worth it when he opens up a package two weeks later to find everything he’d hoped for and more. It’s a black lacy number that pairs silk babydoll blouse on top with a pair of cheeky panties that leave nothing to the imagination.

For a moment Jungkook allows himself to just stare at his reflection in the mirror, admiring the line of his legs and the way his chest just barely fills out the deep V cut of his blouse, open down the middle to reveal his still soft abdomen. His lower belly still holds the slightest of sags and the personal trainer in him wants to promise himself that he’ll be good and snap back to his old body in no time.

But, he notes with a tinge of surprise, really, he finds he doesn’t give a flying fuck. His body was Soobin’s home for just over nine months, and the extra weight padding his belly, his inner thighs, his chest—all of it ensured his pup knew he was happy, healthy, and cared for even before he entered the world. It doesn’t fucking matter if Jungkook will never have a six pack again when gets to have a lifetime of learning and knowing his new best friend.

And because Jungkook’s life is never one to go as he plans, it’s when he’s halfway into bending over to fit a new lace stocking over his foot that the door opens, and a choked gasp makes its way to his ears.

Namjoon has Soobin in his arms as he gapes back at his husband, and Jungkook doesn’t know what compels him to do this, but he covers up his body as best as he can, arms crossed over his midsection. He’s never done this before, and it’s clear Namjoon is equal parts shocked and confused because his eyes widen exponentially. Thankfully, Soobin is still at the age where he’s just learning how to lift his head, so all Jungkook sees is the back of his full, full head of hair. Namjoon carefully maneuvers backward without stumbling over his steps before eventually closing the door and returning to wherever he came from.

Neither of them mention what happened, instead avoiding each other’s gaze until Namjoon is making dinner that night, when Jungkook finally takes the plunge and presses his fingers into the small of Namjoon’s back as he passes by. With Soobin tucked in after his second to last feed of the evening, Jungkook feels significantly more comfortable, breasts empty of milk for now and arms free of their nearly 7-kilo baby. He loves being with Soobin always, but having the freedom to merely exist with his husband again is one he will never get over.

Jungkook supposes this is what it means to want something so badly that it’s all you can think about, then the moment it’s there, you’re flooded with the reminder of everything else that has fallen to the wayside in the meantime. The pockets of time he gets to spend with Namjoon remind him of the days where it was just the two of them. He never anticipated missing it so much, but he thinks it must be good, because it means he makes the most of every moment spent with their pup, too.

It takes awhile for Jungkook to realize it, but when he does, it’s as if he can’t stop thinking about it. Namjoon didn’t look anywhere near excited to hear that Jungkook’s doctor had cleared him for sex, and has been actively avoiding any and every situation that so much as suggests it.

One moment Jungkook will be washing his breast pump or one of the bottles Namjoon uses when Jungkook is out running an errand, and he knows Namjoon is turned on too, can smell his mate’s thick, heady arousal in the air. If that weren’t enough on its own, it’s like Jungkook’s mating mark throbs with the knowledge that Namjoon’s fat cock is thickening up nearby and lets loose a trail of slick dampening his briefs.

They both know it, and yet neither of them do anything about it.

 

 

Soobin celebrates his sixteenth week of life with a mini party hat Jungkook found at Daiso the other day. Jungkook stares mournfully at his husband but musters a smile for every photo he knows Taehyung is taking. The thought of Soobin one day looking through each snapshot wondering why Jungkook looked so downcast on a day of such celebration shoots a pang in his chest. So smiling, it is. Jungkook would do anything for his pup.

When Jungkook turns his gaze back to his baby, he sees Jimin crouched in front of Soobin’s high chair. The alpha is holding out a tiny microphone he’d ordered off GMarket a few weeks ago right into Soobin’s face, and the baby looks entranced as he tries to pull it away to no avail.

“And how does it feel to be earthside for a whole four months now, my friend?” Jimin asks, undeterred by the way the young pup reaches out with wiggling hands to grab a fistful of bright pink hair. It looks like he pulls with the way Jimin bites back a wince, but the alpha just continues.

“Right, right, I see. You certainly had no one to bother but your poor appa over there,” he continues, gesturing to where Jungkook is standing and watching them both. “Making him suffer must not have been enough for you, my sweet little one.”

“Jimin,” Namjoon interrupts, voice hard as the vibrations of it prickle at Jungkook’s skin. It’s not often that Namjoon adds his own alpha timbre to his voice, but when he does, everyone knows he means it. His scent turns into a sharp tang of anger and the acrid notes of what Jungkook knows is fear. He has no clue what could’ve bothered Namjoon so much about what Jimin said; more than anything, even he knows it’s a harmless joke.

Namjoon and Jimin exchange a look that Jungkook doesn’t understand, and for a moment he worries that years of friendship are going to be thrown down the drain for some stupid posturing shit that has never bothered them before.

Jungkook elbows his husband in the rib, hard. “What are you doing,” he hisses. He knows it’s just a small gathering with their closest friends, that really it doesn’t matter if this exists at all considering Soobin’s 100^th day celebration was just last month, but it means something to him. It isn’t like Namjoon to behave this way, especially not with one of their closest friends.

The way Namjoon’s lips thin and tug into a frown don’t do anything to assuage his confusion. He huffs out a defeated sigh and turns to nuzzle at Jungkook’s neck, but Jungkook shrugs him off. It’s embarrassing, the way people will inevitably see this behavior as Jungkook encouraging it. Frustrating, how Namjoon has chosen today of all days to be out of character and difficult in a way he never has before.

But he seems to get the message if the way he immediately pulls away from Jungkook means anything. He nods at Jimin once before going to join the others in the kitchen, and Jimin goes back to playing with Soobin, nonplussed.

“What did he mean by that?” Jungkook dares to ask. He steps closer to Jimin, wanting to hear the truth for himself. Namjoon isn’t one to hide anything from his husband, but things just…haven’t really been adding up lately.

Jimin shrugs nonchalantly but refuses to meet Jungkook’s eyes. “Just alpha stuff, you know.”

“It’s never just alpha stuff between you two, you know that. Don’t even try it,” Jungkook warns, trying to keep his voice even with Soobin so close by. The baby picks up on everything Jungkook feels, can tell the difference between every one of his tones and shifts in his scent, and Jungkook can’t make his son cry along with him during his party.

“Seriously, Jungkook-ah, don’t worry about it. Namjoon hyung’s just kind of sensitive right now, I get it.”

Jungkook swallows, doesn’t even know where to begin with that statement. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I know he doesn’t mean it.” He doesn’t know anything at all.

“Hey, for real. It’s okay. I understand.” And in Jimin’s eyes are eternal understanding and grace, as if Namjoon’s reaction wasn’t completely unwarranted after all. “He’s going through a lot. I’m surprised he isn’t like, lashing out or anything. Leave it to him to just internalize everything, I guess. Same old Namjoon hyung never changes.”

He’s going through a lot.

Leave it to him to internalize everything.

Namjoon hyung’s just kind of sensitive right now.

His lips part of their own accord. Nothing comes out.

“Jungkook?” Jimin asks, voice full of concern. “You do know that, right?”

And that’s the final straw.

 

 

“You don’t want to have sex with me,” Jungkook says evenly, sitting across the kitchen table from Namjoon when everyone is gone and Soobin is tucked into his crib for the night. It works out, because Jungkook needs those walls standing, needs to protect his pup from any of the ways he knows his scent might sour after this conversation.

He clasps his hands in front of him. He’s had all day to think about this, to ruminate on the painful realization that his husband doesn’t want him anymore.

Namjoon immediately startles. “That’s not true.”

“You haven’t touched me since I had Soobin, even though Dr. Han cleared me for sex weeks ago. You keep rejecting my advances and I just. Clearly something is wrong, Joon.” Jungkook has trouble trusting his omega sometimes, but this? This conviction is something he feels in his heart and mind and soul, not just his body.

“It’s not you, it’s me. I promise. This has nothing to do with you.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yeah? Nothing to do with me, huh? Give me a break, it has everything to do with me.” Suddenly the world feels that much sharper in Jungkook’s eyes, as if his vision has focused to become extra clear. “You aren’t attracted to me anymore.”

Namjoon’s eyes nearly bug out of his face and if this were any other moment in time Jungkook would laugh. Today, right now, he’s nowhere near amused.

“That’s not true,” Namjoon counters, and Jungkook fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“If it’s not, then what is? Talk to me. It’s okay to not be attracted to me anymore,” Jungkook promises, as much as it pains him to admit.

And it’s true. He gets it.

His abs will never be the same as what they used to be, and his belly will always carry around the stretch marks that growing Soobin inside his body have left him with. He isn’t embarrassed, never will be when it comes to this, but he understands if he doesn’t fall into Namjoon’s ideal type anymore.

Namjoon said so himself years ago that he had a muscle kink. At the time it was funny and Jungkook had used it to his advantage, dropping into pushups or flexing his muscles just to see Namjoon grow flustered. Now, Jungkook is soft and stretchy and all too different from the man his husband fell in lust with years ago, but they’ll just have to deal.

It hurts like hell, but he understands.

Namjoon bites his lip. All Jungkook can hear is the sound of the clock ticking behind Namjoon’s head. He tries to ignore the spike in anxious pheromones radiating from his mate, tries to ignore how he must smell the same. Everything in him says to release equally calming ones, but Jungkook can’t give something he doesn’t even have.

“That’s not it at all,” Namjoon says after a beat. He tugs at his hair and looks everywhere but at his husband, and Jungkook holds a breath.

Namjoon flustered and at a loss for words is one of Jungkook’s favorite things. He’s usually so composed, always has the right answer to every question, so it means something more when Namjoon is left searching and scrambling for the right words. It means this is the most unfiltered Namjoon that Jungkook can coax out of him.

“You will always be the sexiest thing I have every laid my eyes on, okay? Ever. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.” The sheer ferocity in Namjoon’s eyes leaves no room for argument. “It never matters what you look like because you’re always beautiful to me. I’m in love with you, always will be in love with you, and the fact that you’re the father of our child? Fuck. You’re the most perfect, wonderful thing I’ve ever seen. There will never be a day where you aren’t sexy to me.”

He looks down, as if ashamed.

“You aren’t the problem, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon whispers. “I am.”

Jungkook looks up, all too confused, but more than anything, he wants to understand. He reaches out to grab Namjoon’s hand in his.

There are times when Namjoon can be so self-flagellating, so quick to blame himself for anything that goes wrong. Jungkook wants nothing more than to lean forward and kiss his frown away.

“I…I find you so sexy. Too sexy. That’s the problem. All you have to do is hold Soobin or sit next to me or be stirring something on the stove and it’s like. It’s like my body can’t do anything but react,” Namjoon says, voice growing louder and louder as the movements and gestures of his free hand grow more and more manic.

Jungkook scrunches his eyebrows together. “Okay…” he trails off, because he’s somehow even more confused than when they’d begun.

Namjoon sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Jungkook-ah, I watched you nearly bleed out after you had Soobin, literally saw the life leave your eyes. And I know you’re okay and recuperating and ready for sex, but every time I so much as think about touching you, all I can see is you unresponsive. And that scares the fucking shit out of me.”

He smiles sadly, and it’s all too jarring to see coupled with the way Namjoon’s face has gone ashen with his confession.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say right away, but he squeezes Namjoon’s hand, letting him know he’s there. That he’s alive and breathing and happy and healthy and most of all, not going anywhere anytime soon. Namjoon grips it like a lifeline, and Jungkook finally lets out the breath he’s been holding.

He knows it must have been hard for Namjoon to see all of that happen to him during his delivery, but it’s one thing to hear it and another entirely to have it confirmed from Namjoon’s lips. Jungkook remembers the pain of childbirth and how quickly things had gone awry in the delivery room that night. One moment he’d been sobbing as they placed Soobin on his chest, and the next thing he knew, everything felt floaty and far away before eventually turning black.

Namjoon hasn’t told him much about the ordeal, but he’s heard from Hoseok and Yoongi alike that not once in their decades-long friendship had they ever seen Namjoon break down like that before. Even if Jungkook had been completely incapacitated, his heart tugs and pulls at the thought of Namjoon looking so lost and confused then. His scent is sour and upset now, and Jungkook wants so badly for it to return to its normal notes of earth and sun and rain.

“I thought I was going to hear one of those monitors flatline,” Namjoon says, pulling Jungkook from his own thoughts. He looks away and Jungkook spies the tears that roll down his cheeks as he recalls the memory.

“There I was holding Soobin, who was so, so small and looked just like you, and I wondered for a split second, was this really worth it? Is any of this worth it if Jungkook isn’t here to raise this tiny baby with me? And god, it was so selfish, so terrible to think that when our baby who we’d waited so long for was literally in my fucking arms. What kind of dad am I that I could think such a thing?”

Still the best one, the only one I could ever dream of having a child with, Jungkook wants to say, but he stays quiet. Waits for Namjoon to continue.

But Namjoon pauses and shudders with big, heaving sobs. It’s the first time Jungkook’s ever seen him so distraught, and it’s like everything in him wants nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and shield him from the world. It’s hard to do that when the very thing that caused Namjoon such heartache is something so in and out of his control as his own health. Jungkook can’t promise that they’ll live out a blip-free happily ever after, but he knows damn well that neither of them will ever let the life they’ve built together go down without a fight.

“Hey, hey,” he says, getting up from his chair to circle the table and take the seat next to his husband. He takes Namjoon’s hands in his own again and promises to himself that he’s never going to let go.

Jungkook moves Namjoon’s hands to his sore chest, places them right over his beating heart. “We don’t have to talk about this if you aren’t ready, okay? But I’m here. I’m here. I’m breathing and alive and I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere if I don’t have to, I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s then that he feels himself releasing those calming pheromones he reserves solely for his mate, feels the way they roll off his skin and into the air, searching for what they know is home in the pores of Namjoon’s own skin. Sometimes it’s the mind that continues to roll itself into a ball, tighter and tighter, while the body knows exactly what it needs.

Namjoon takes a long inhale, shoulders shuddering with the weight of a thousand worries he never once voiced aloud. And Jungkook is so angry—at himself, at Namjoon, at the powers that be, at everything that left them in this situation in the first place. He doesn’t know what could be, but he wishes he can go right back into the moment in time when he lost consciousness and snap his fingers.

I’m still here, he might say, rolling his thumb to press the edges of Namjoon’s breaking heart back together once again. I’m never going anywhere.

More than anything, he wants to lean close and shoulder the burden alongside his husband. Soobin is sixteen weeks old now, meaning this is something Namjoon has had to grapple with and relive for sixteen whole weeks, on top of caring for a recovering Jungkook all the same. To get caught between the revolving door of life and death and life all over again—Jungkook can’t imagine the state his heart must be in.

The first few weeks weren’t easy, but the more Jungkook remembers, the deeper his pit of sorrow for his husband becomes. Tears prick in his eyes all over again at the thought of how taxing it must have been to flit back and forth between looking after a barely functioning Jungkook while adjusting to life with an infant in the mix. An infant that would have been attached at Jungkook's hip had circumstances been normal, but instead became Namjoon's sole responsibility.

Namjoon remains still, biting his lip and averting his gaze as if the bit of emotion he had chosen to show was all too much. It’s not, and Jungkook wants to prove it to him. He squeezes Namjoon’s hand in his again and rises to his feet, tugging at Namjoon to follow. There’s no resistance as Jungkook pulls and then pushes him to sit on the sofa, Namjoon’s eyes just staring back curiously. Jungkook gingerly places knee after knee on either side of Namjoon’s legs to sit perched on his lap, wary of the stitches Dr. Han left only a few months ago. Namjoon looks wary as his eyes fixate on Jungkook’s belly, but he doesn’t say anything.

Jungkook cups Namjoon’s face in his hands for a moment. He lets himself look his fill, and with each passing second of silence, he realizes.

This man and the little boy resting in the other room, lips likely pressed into a pout as he suckles on air—they are Jungkook’s world.

When Namjoon was on the verge of losing Jungkook for good, that had been his entire world crumbling to pieces while a nurse handed him a baby smelling equal parts like him and Jungkook, so familiar yet so foreign all the same. Jungkook doesn’t know what he would’ve done in the same situation, doesn’t want to entertain the thought.

Moving a hand to take Namjoon’s once again, he moves it to press right against his lower belly, the very space Soobin had called home for the better part of an entire year. Namjoon’s gasp is audible, and Jungkook can pinpoint the exact moment his face crumples.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Namjoon says again. This time it’s void of every attempt to hide his true feelings from Jungkook, raw. His voice breaks halfway through and his words turn into a low warble that Jungkook can barely make out anymore.

Namjoon’s chest stutters with the force of his sudden sobs and it’s as if his lungs can’t help but collapse every time he tries. Hot tears stream down his face, and Jungkook feels them press beneath his fingertips, into his cuticles, down his wrist—insistent against the hand he still has on Namjoon’s face. Namjoon’s other hand shakes where it’s pressed against Jungkook’s belly.

“I’m here,” Jungkook repeats. There’s nothing else he thinks he can say. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me, as long as you want me.”

It doesn’t feel like enough, and Jungkook knows that his mere words will never be. But it’s a start, and it has Namjoon finally, finally looking at him again. It gives Jungkook the courage to lean forward and press his forehead against Namjoon’s. His breath shudders and shakes against Namjoon’s lips.

“I want you now and forever and always,” is mouthed against Jungkook’s lips. “My life is you.”

Jungkook hums. “You are so strong. So, so strong.” His voice wavers and he feels Namjoon stiffen, but Jungkook only brushes his thumb back and forth over his wet cheek.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he starts, and it’s horrifying the way he realizes he never quite thanked Namjoon for every specific thing he’s done since his release from the hospital, since the night of Soobin’s birth, since the moment they first met, really.

“Thank you for getting up to go fetch Soobin from his crib every night until I could get out of bed again. Thank you for staying awake with me when all I wanted to do was cry about what a failure I was for not being able to pick up my own son.”

Namjoon’s scent starts wavering and smelling more like rain the more Jungkook speaks, and it’s in low hushed tones that he mentions it to his husband, his mate. He doesn’t say anything, just moves his face to nose at Jungkook’s scent gland, seeking a comfort only Jungkook can give.

He continues. “Thank you for encouraging me to go run errands on my own when I know now how hard that must have been for you.” Namjoon whines softly in the back of his throat, and it’s then that Jungkook’s voice breaks, too. Imagining how torn he must have felt taking their pup from Jungkook and handing the car keys over in exchange, thinking of the frantic call that came an hour later as Jungkook realized he’d gotten lost in the ramen aisle again.

Fuck. You’re alive, Namjoon had said then.

If only Jungkook would’ve known. If only he’d pieced it all together rather than attributing it to the lack of sleep they’d both been getting from nursing into the deep hours of the night. Like clockwork Soobin would cry, and Namjoon would fetch their unhappy pup for Jungkook to feed every two hours. Namjoon stayed awake with him through it all, never once complaining.

One night, Jungkook had felt so sorry to a still sleeping Namjoon that he hadn’t had the heart to nudge his husband and ask for him to bring Soobin. Jungkook had felt bone tired then too, letting his son’s cries reach his ears and his chest to no avail. He loved his son, but there was nothing he could do confined to his bed. Even moreso, when he just wanted the crying to stop.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Namjoon asked then, rousing from his sleep to find Jungkook sitting up in bed hiccuping with fresh sobs.

Jungkook merely shook his head, letting the wailing from the other room speak for itself. Namjoon looked between his husband and the door then, clearly unsure of where to go.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked instead, because there was always a choice. Namjoon explained later in the morning that if Jungkook hadn’t wanted to feed him then, he would’ve just taken Soobin and fed him in the living room with some of the milk Jungkook had expressed earlier that day.

That’s how Namjoon loves him, Jungkook’s come to realize all over again.

It’s with this newfound knowledge that Jungkook keeps going.

“You think you can’t do this life thing without me? Hate to break it you babe, but it’s actually the other way around. I love you. I'm in love with you. Thank you for being the best dad our little pup could ever ask for. Thank you for being the most loving husband. I’m grateful we get to be mates every fucking day.”

Jungkook wipes the wetness from Namjoon’s cheeks one by one, feeling the warmth of Namjoon’s hand in his where it’s still pressed against his belly. It reminds him of how Namjoon used to paw at his shirts nearly every day looking for any sign of growth before curling up on the floor to whisper sweet nothings to Soobin in the womb every day.

“It’s okay to have a hard time, Joon. You know, it might not be a bad idea to talk to someone about this if it’s bothering you. I promise, the sex can wait.”

Namjoon finally clears his throat and nods. “I’ve been thinking about making an appointment with Dr. Jhe again. To um, to talk about it.”

He looks embarrassed at the mention of his therapist, but Jungkook is so, so proud. Years ago, Namjoon might’ve waved it away and blamed it all on himself for being a bad alpha. Now, he’s the one who has the courage to admit he might need a hand.

“I’m proud of you for taking the first step, baby,” Jungkook assures. The dimple in Namjoon’s cheek appears when he smiles wryly to himself, but Jungkook really hopes he knows how proud Jungkook is to be his.

Namjoon hiccups. “And it really is okay if your nice lingerie has to wait a little longer?”

“You’re so silly, sometimes,” Jungkook laughs, because there’s nothing more to do but that very thing. He thinks it’s time to laugh again. “I don’t love you for your big stupid alpha cock or even for your dumb knot.”

Namjoon bites his lip and nods. These are things he knows.

“I love you for you, and I want to help you get better. Just like you did with me.”

Chapter 2

Notes:

surprise! i've wanted to add to this fic since the moment i posted it, but it took much longer than expected, as all things do. hope you guys enjoy seeing things from namjoon's pov :)

NOTE: please keep in mind this chapter is meant to get pretty graphic! warning for graphic hospital scenes, blood, heavy mentions of major character death (though jk does not die), and troubling yet realistic depictions of grief and trauma-related stress from namjoon.

 

 

Namjoon likes to consider himself prepared.

Weeks before Jungkook had even started thinking about preparing a hospital bag for the arrival of their baby, Namjoon had begun compiling a list on his phone of everything they might need.

Phone chargers, the soft cotton pajamas Jungkook loves so much, compression socks for Jungkook’s legs along with the thick, soft ones with grips on the bottom to prevent him from slipping—Namjoon thinks he’s thought of it all. Hell, there’s even a spot on the list for a tin of the wasabi peas Jungkook loves to snack on so much.

For after the delivery, of course.

Jungkook had laughed and brought both hands to cradle Namjoon’s face, leaving kisses all over his face in his delight.

Ah, my darling yeobo, the best alpha Soobin-ie and I could ever ask for, he’d declared proudly, shiny eyes glistening under the kitchen lights.

Namjoon had convinced himself that he’d taken every single detail into consideration—anything Jungkook might need while laboring with their son, he’d already anticipated.

But nothing could have ever prepared Namjoon for this.

 

 

Jungkook is white as a sheet, paler and far more sickly looking than Namjoon has ever seen him. It leaves Namjoon’s stomach clenching and unclenching in fear, equal parts sure that Jungkook’s body will know what to do yet afraid that somehow, some way it won’t.

There are no failsafes here, just Jungkook’s body pushing out their sweet pup in the only way it knows how. His doctor had proudly declared there was no likely need of medical intervention, but even then they’d ended up being wrong. If Jungkook’s doctor, who’d apparently been in the business of delivering babies for over half their lifetime now, could be wrong, what else is Namjoon at risk of losing?

He can’t imagine anything coming close to the sheer loss of losing his husband.

His everything, fuck.

Jungkook’s water had broken in the middle of the night, sending the two of them in a fit of excited movement at the prospect of seeing their baby soon. The omega had complained earlier about some cramping in his lower back, but even then he’d brushed it off as another set of Braxton Hicks contractions. Nothing to worry about.

His water breaking made it real, and that meant Namjoon nearly burning a hole in the carpet with the friction of his antsy pacing, trying to anticipate every one of Jungkook’s needs before they could come to fruition.

Take a hot shower with me, hyung, Jungkook had said with a soft smile, offering an upturned hand to his husband. My contractions are still at least ten minutes apart.

And so Namjoon had set the hospital bag and extra body pillow back on the guest bed and followed Jungkook back into the master suite, stripping as he crossed the threshold leading directly into the in-between.

Almost father.

Husband and partner, but a mere witness to Jungkook bringing a life into the world.

Pressing open-mouthed kisses over Jungkook’s shoulder, Namjoon had stood opposite his husband as the warm spray met the planes of Jungkook’s shoulders head on. He’d readjusted the shower head to jet directly down to Jungkook’s lower back, then used all the recommendations of spots to massage at his husband’s muscles wound tight in anticipation. The omega had moaned louder and louder at the temporary bits of relief it provided.

Jungkook had pressed his belly directly into Namjoon’s stomach before dragging one of Namjoon’s hands down to lift at the underside.

Lift for a second, please? And Namjoon had immediately turned Jungkook around so the omega’s back was against his chest. 

Feels so good, thank you, yeobo. Just a little bit more and we’ll meet him earthside, yeah?

Just a little bit more, Jungkook had said. And Namjoon had believed him with his entire heart, mind, and soul.

Jungkook was never wrong.

 

 

Everything was fine. Jungkook had been doing great, pushing every time the nurse instructed him to. He’d maneuvered himself onto all fours and then into a supported squat with Namjoon crowded around him, before eventually settling on his back again when those positions didn’t do much to progress the baby’s final descent past his pelvic bone.

But something clearly must’ve changed, because Jungkook had been on his final push when the baby had literally slid into Dr. Yang’s thankfully waiting arms.

And this is where things get hazy.

Namjoon had been in the middle of pressing kiss after kiss into Jungkook’s damp hair, tears in his eyes as he whispered, I love you, I love you, thank you. I’m so proud of you, over and over again.

Jungkook had never responded, sobbing as he pet his head over the pup’s blood soaked head. The nurses did everything to dry him off, but Jungkook immediately took to scenting him right away. Everything had been fine.

Minutes passed, thick as tar as the world expanded to fit a new life inside it. Another nurse gingerly picked the baby up with weathered hands to get him weighed.

“Soobin,” Jungkook had whispered, one of the many names they’d been debating since they learned their firstborn would be a boy.

But before Namjoon even had a chance to agree, hell itself had engulfed the hospital room in flames.

Namjoon doesn’t understand. One moment he’d been holding Jungkook, and the next, he’d suddenly been handed his newborn baby because his husband couldn’t support him anymore.

The smell of blood overpowers everything else in the room, and Namjoon squeezes the baby tighter against his chest.

“Soobin-ah,” Jungkook mutters weakly, right before his eyes roll back into his head for a moment that lasts too long. They slip closed eventually, but Namjoon waits with bated breath for them to open once again.

“What’s going on?” Namjoon asks, but even he knows as he says it that it’s futile. His eyes flicker to the monitors he can’t read, and surely the wild beeping isn’t indicative of anything good.

“Hey, hey, baby, wake up,” he urges, sure that Jungkook is playing some sick joke on him. Very funny Jungkook-ah, now wake up.

But this is their baby. If there’s anything Jungkook has ever looked forward to in his life, it’s welcoming their baby into the world. The nursery is finished and pristine. Even drops of colostrum set aside for the baby’s first cold await in their freezer at home.

Namjoon swallows thickly.

The nurse had announced the baby’s birth weight as 3.1 kilograms before returning him to Jungkook’s chest, but Namjoon swears she must have slipped a few pebbles of lead in the blankets somewhere. The weight in his arms has to be heavier than that.

“BP’s dropping, someone call Dr. Lee stat,” Dr. Yang’s voice calls, tighter than the last time.

Namjoon is torn between squeezing his eyes shut and drinking in every last centimeter of his husband’s face. He doesn’t know if this will be his last chance, but at the same time he doesn’t want this to be the sight conjured up in his mind every time he thinks about Jungkook from here on out.

What the fuck.

Where the hell is he getting these assumptions that he’ll never see Jungkook again?

He opens his eyes big and wide, far bigger than they usually sit, and he’s disappointed to find that he can’t see Jungkook at all anymore. A nurse nearly as tall as him stands directly in his line of sight and turns him carefully towards the door. There’s blood on their scrubs, bright red and mocking.

Namjoon hadn’t noticed how much blood Jungkook had lost. He hadn’t been paying attention. He should’ve done more. He should’ve told Jungkook one more time that he loved him.

“Sir, we’re going to usher you into the nursery, alright? Dr. Yang’s going to work on your husband now and we’ll have an update for you in a bit.”

“Wait, wait, let me see-” Namjoon tries, but it must be too late because there’s another nurse from behind who ushers him back out the double doors of the OR.

Every step he takes to end up in the nursery is a further step away from his husband, his everything.

The baby in his arms is heavier than he’d ever expected him to be.

Soobin.

 

 

Every time Namjoon remembers how he learned about Jungkook’s pregnancy for the first time, he thinks of Choco Boys.

The little chocolate mushrooms Jungkook had plied him with, hands reaching for a still sealed bag of watermelon gummies that Jungkook actually couldn’t get enough of weeks later when his cravings came in full force.

He thinks of how when he’d first started dating Jungkook, Hoseok had called him Choco Boy for the blunt cut his hair had been styled in, how he resembled the chocolate mushroom in both looks and taste. Our sweet Choco Boy, Jimin still calls Jungkook even now from time to time.

But more than anything, Namjoon thinks of Choco Boys because he imagined little singing chocolate mushrooms dancing in the pit of his belly at the news. Jungkook had fanned open an entire hand of used pregnancy tests, and there wasn’t anything for Namjoon to do but hope.

How excited he’d been that he couldn’t contain it. Tears rolled down his cheeks for ages and only when Jungkook wiped them away did Namjoon realize they’d fallen in the first place.

Namjoon remembers it all.

The hope, the excitement, the sheer elation at finding out that he and Jungkook were going to be parents.

All of it is Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

 

 

“Hey, he’s out!” Namjoon hears as he pushes his way out to the waiting room, but he can’t make out who it is when all he can focus on is breathing in and out. It’s as easy as breathing, he remembers saying to someone about some stupid thing before. But he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

How the fuck was there so much he took for granted before this? Breathing, walking, existing—all of it was easy when he rested assured in the knowledge that Jungkook was okay. He’d never given any of it a second thought before.

But now Namjoon has no fucking clue if he’ll ever see those round, sparkly eyes ever light up again. Not to mention, he’s stuck with a pup he doesn’t even know. It’d been Jungkook who carried him—Soobin, Namjoon corrects—not him.

Fuck.

Jungkook would murder him for saying anything of this sort.

A hand comes to rest on Namjoon’s shoulder, shaking him from the litany of thoughts bombarding his mind. The touch should be settling but it’s not Jungkook’s, so where does that leave Namjoon now?

“Everyone’s okay, yeah?” Yoongi asks cautiously. He’s always read Namjoon like the back of his own hand, been able to recognize when Namjoon was seconds away from losing it. “Jungkook had the baby?”

Namjoon nods numbly. Jungkook did have the baby. Jungkook even got to see Soobin before Namjoon had been so quickly ushered out of the delivery room.

Soobin-ah, he’d greeted in a soft, still drug-addled voice. It’s a miracle Jungkook had been coherent at all, considering how much blood he’d lost. Everything in Namjoon fights to forget the sight of blood pooled on the floor where Dr. Yang had sat between Jungkook’s legs to retrieve the baby.

Soobin.

Their baby.

Namjoon leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he scrubs at his face in shock.

“Yay! Congratulations dad,” Taehyung adds next, sounding so, so happy for them that it makes Namjoon’s heart crack wide open all over again. 

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to break it to five of their closest friends that everything is wrong and nothing is okay. 

They’d walked in as two and expected to walk out as three. Now, Namjoon can’t tell if he’s going to be the only one walking out at all.

“Namjoon-ah? You okay?” Seokjin interjects. His voice is so far away that Namjoon can’t tell where he might be, if he’s moving toward him or away from him, if he’s even in the room at all. Tears blur his eyes, but Namjoon does nothing to wipe them away.

“Ah, it must’ve just hit him that he’s a dad now,” Jimin adds. Namjoon hadn’t even registered seeing him as he’d walked over to them, but he’d been so busy counting his breaths and his steps and multiplying and dividing them all arbitrarily for any semblance of composure. He can always apologize to Jimin later.

Maybe Jimin will be the one to apologize to Namjoon, if the doctors aren’t able to get Jungkook—

No.

Namjoon shoves the thought away, cursing himself for even considering the possibility. It isn’t a possibility, could never be a possibility. There is no world without Jeon Jungkook, not when he is Namjoon’s world.

Jungkook would never leave him alone with their child, scrunching up his nose at the prospect of leaving Namjoon alone with such a task.

And he’s right. Namjoon needs him so much. Namjoon doesn’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to do without Jungkook beside him.

“Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi says, and his large hand moves to grip the base of Namjoon’s neck. “Is it Jungkook? What’s the matter?”

And Namjoon can’t help the sobs that rack through his body.

He never cries, let alone in front of their friends. Jungkook has seen him cry a few times over the course of their relationship, always sitting beside him with the sole intent of sharing space, never pressing for answers.

But Jungkook isn’t here. Jungkook is tens of meters away with his belly torn open and filling with blood at a rate his body can’t keep up with. He isn’t sitting next to Namjoon as he cries, which means none of this should matter because Jungkook isn’t here.

“Hyung,” Jimin says, voice tight. “You’re scaring me.”

How does Namjoon find the words to explain? How can he ever tell their closest friends that Jungkook might be leaving them?

Jimin, who fondly remembers stories of chasing a naked baby Jungkook around the house when they were young.

Taehyung, who’d marched up to Jungkook one day in university and loudly declared they’d be the best of friends for the rest of their lives. Like Jungkook, Taehyung was rarely ever wrong.

Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, everyone—they all love Jungkook so much. How could Namjoon ever break their hearts this way?

Soobin is here, Jungkook is not, and Namjoon…Namjoon wishes to be wherever Jungkook is. Wherever his husband goes, Namjoon will follow him anywhere.

“Jungkook…” Namjoon cries, finding it harder and harder to breathe as his mind tries to wrap around words like, he’s hurt. He’s in surgery. He bled out. I don’t know where he is. BP’s dropping. Call Dr. Lee, stat.

He can’t tell them.

He can’t.

But there’s no one here to do it for him. He’s effectively alone.

 

 

His boys lead him to take a seat against the wall, forming a circle around Namjoon as if to protect him from the terrors of the outside world. They wait for him to calm down, never once pushing for an answer Namjoon isn’t ready to give.

But he has to. He owes it to them, so he says the truth.

“I don’t know what happened, but Jungkook’s face went white and it looked like he was bleeding out.” The words are robotic as they leave Namjoon’s mouth, but he finds it easier than he expected to say them at all. “They took him into surgery. His eyes rolled back into his head.” Namjoon’s voice effectively breaks, bile rising in his throat.

No one says anything for a long moment, until Jimin breaks the silence.

“What’s the baby’s name, hyung?” he asks gently, taking the seat next to him and cradling Namjoon’s hand in his much smaller one. “You and Jungkookie had like, a million names you were deciding on. Did you ever pick?”

“His name is Soobin,” Namjoon replies, voice hoarse as he focuses on the question, and nothing but the question. “His name is Soobin because Jungkook said so, and he looks almost exactly like Jungkook, and I left him in the nursery with the other babies because I couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. Not when he looked exactly like the person he was stealing a life from. He nearly took Jungkook from me, and he still might. I’ve been a dad for ten minutes and I’m already the worst one, aren’t I?”

Namjoon waits for someone to yell at him, to tell him he’s wrong and that he doesn’t deserve to. It isn’t anything he hadn’t said to himself on the walk over from the nursery. The waiting area around them is silent save for a gentle snore coming from the opposite side of the room.

He can’t look up for fear of seeing disappointment and horror etched on each of their friends’ faces. How horrible must they think he is, so adamant that his husband’s life comes before that of the child he nearly died bringing into the world.

It’s Taehyung who does something surprising. He pulls Namjoon to his feet and offers him a small smile. Taking Namjoon’s hand in his, he squeezes tightly as if he intends to never let go. The pressure keeps Namjoon rooted to the earth for a little while longer.

“Hyung, we’re going to take a photo of you with Soobin-ie.” The omega gestures down to the fancy film camera strapped around his neck. Namjoon hadn’t noticed it before. “I’m going to take photos on here like I promised Jungkookie I would, and then I’ll get pictures and videos on your phone, too, because I think Jungkookie would want—”

“Jungkookie, Jungkookie, Jungkookie.” Namjoon lets out a shuddering exhale, feeling something snap inside him. “Is now really the time for this?”

He watches Taehyung’s face fall, sees Yoongi in the corner of his vision looking like he’s moments away from correcting Namjoon’s mistake, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when his husband is fighting for his life because of this baby all his friends want him to see. His baby.

“How the fuck am I supposed to be worried about a photo op when Jungkook is dying? How am I supposed to care about a baby who doesn’t even realize what he’s done? Taehyung-ah, do you really think this is the time to take a stupid photo?”

Yoongi raises his voice in warning. “Namjoon-”

Taehyung waves his boyfriend away nonchalantly. When Namjoon musters the courage to glance at the omega, he’s surprised to see him looking at him with glassy eyes barely holding back tears.

“Think about it like this, hyung: Worst case scenario, do you really want your son to spend his entire life thinking you weren’t overjoyed to meet him? Do you think that would make it easier for you to be a single dad? Because the Jeon Jungkook I know would want that baby to know that he was so loved and wanted, every moment of his life.”

The thought brings a fresh wave of tears back to Namjoon’s eyes. He’s already such a terrible father, hasn’t once considered the life of the newborn he wanted so badly to meet. If—if and only if—he’s left raising Soobin alone, Namjoon will be the one tasked with making sure this child knows those things, regardless of the fact that for him, those feelings stand in the shadows of something much darker now.

So Jungkook has to wake up. Has to. Because Namjoon is ill-equipped to do anything without him, let alone raise their child without Jungkook’s guidance. Like a fish out of water, he isn’t ready.

It’s nearly undetectable, but Namjoon is so adamant about not looking Taehyung in the eye that he notices when the younger omega’s lip wobbles, the only real emotion he’s shown in the wake of the news.

Sweet, sweet Taehyung. How he always seems to know exactly what to do. Namjoon has known him for years, and while he still struggles to really get him from time to time, Jungkook has never had this problem.

Sweet, sweet Jungkook. The one who’s always loved without abandon and opened his arms for any and every one of their friends to run into.

“Best case scenario, Jungkook wakes up and yells at you for not having pictures and videos of every one of Soobinie’s waking moments. Do you really want that, hyung? Do you really want the wrath of Jeon Jungkook upon you like that?”

Namjoon deflates immediately. He knows everything Taehyung is saying is true.

“I’m sorry. I…hyung is sorry, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung shrugs and squeezes his hand around Namjoon’s. “I don’t take it personally. Now let me fulfill the promise I made your husband so I have something to show him when he gets out of the OR later. Or else he’ll have both my head and yours.”

 

 

So Namjoon shows his wristband to the nurse at the window of the parent/baby ward, and she must know who he is judging from the way her eyes soften at the mention of his husband’s name. He pays no mind, instead explaining that a friend will be joining them to take some photos for when Jungkook awakes.

She leads them directly back to the grid of clear bassinets without putting up a fight, and they pass rows of newborns in tight, systematic lines. Some of them are awake, eyes roving aimlessly, while others are fast asleep amidst all the noise surrounding them. Namjoon wishes he could be just as oblivious.

He doesn’t know what overcomes him then, but as they slow to a stop, Namjoon thinks he knows exactly which one Soobin is, regardless of the fact that every newborn here looks identical in matching hats and swaddles. Soobin has to be the baby that wafts of Jungkook’s scent from the corner to Namjoon’s right, there’s no way around it.

Namjoon’s feet start moving on their own accord, and the nurse laughs quietly behind him.

“Your son is perfectly healthy, Soobin appa.”

Soobin appa.

Namjoon’s chest clenches. He shouldn’t be the first one to be addressed as such. There’s another in this hospital more deserving of the title, one who’s been waiting for ages to meet their son. One who will meet their son.

“Wow,” Taehyung breathes as he draws closer, hands frozen around his camera. “He looks exactly like Jungkookie, you weren’t joking.”

Namjoon startles with a laugh as it makes its way out of his mouth. “You thought I’d lie to you about that?”

“No,” Taehyung replies evenly. “Just thought you might be a little biased, but. Wow. That’s Jungkookie’s baby alright.”

The nurse sets Soobin in Namjoon’s arms, murmuring assurances that he’s a natural with the way he instinctively goes to support the baby’s neck. Namjoon doesn’t mention that the only reason he knows what to do is because Jungkook had made him practice with a doll at home ever since his second trimester had begun.

Soobin wriggles in Namjoon’s hold, and for a brief second, Namjoon’s eyes flit to the nurse’s in a panic. She laughs and offers extra support near the Soobin’s bottom, but otherwise pulls her hands away slowly.

“He might try to stretch out a little bit, but otherwise he’s a very good boy, Soobin appa. Just cooed when my colleague was trying to get his footprints earlier, but otherwise no crying from this one at all.”

And Namjoon’s chest wordlessly swells with pride, which he mentally pinches himself for because just moments ago, he was yelling about how terrible of a father he is. Maybe, just maybe…he can love Soobin just as much as Jungkook does. Even if the beginning wasn’t the best, Namjoon still has a chance to be a good father to his son.

He finds loving Soobin is easier than he expected as he stares into his sweet baby’s milky eyes, the way he looks up at his father in what looks like awe and wonder. Namjoon knows Soobin actually isn’t seeing anything, but he knows scent can’t be deceived. And Soobin…the baby smells content.

Soobin smacks his lips together when Namjoon brings him close to scent him for the first time. Namjoon starts with the crown of his head, feeling his pulse beat thick and full at the soft spot there. It’s where Jungkook’s scent is strongest, peach all too dominant as it calls out to Namjoon.

There’s the click of the camera, but Namjoon pays no mind. Soobin deserves his undivided attention.

He brushes his nose against the baby’s temples, his cheeks, even tries to fit it into the small space between Soobin’s chin and his chest. There’s something raw about his scent here, where the blood and water of the womb have merely been wiped away, and Namjoon realizes it’s exactly what he needs to feel the bond he shares with his husband radiating in this baby’s scent.

I’m yours, it’s like Soobin is reminding him.

And he’s right.

Soobin is his.

 

 

Eventually, the nurses guide Namjoon holding Soobin, along with Taehyung and everyone else, back to Jungkook’s original hospital room to congregate in privacy. It’s clean when they re-enter that the room has been thoroughly cleaned, and Namjoon is grateful that someone took the extra measures to ensure it doesn’t smell like blood or death anymore. Instead, it just smells clean.

The nurse leaves Soobin’s empty bassinet in front of Namjoon with a knowing grin, and it’s only later that Namjoon understands what she’d found so amusing when he watches his friends all fight to take turns holding the infant.

It’s maybe an hour before Soobin is back in his arms and there’s a knock at the door. Namjoon hopes for the best, and Dr. Yang walks in with a smile on his face.

The doctor explains at length what they did to save Jungkook’s life, but Yoongi and Seokjin are standing with Namjoon, so he trusts they’ll fill him in later. Namjoon hears words like hemorrhaging and shock, but pushes down the urge to vomit right then and there. He clings to the nice words, the he was in recovery and is now on his way back here, all the active verbs denoting that Jungkook is, not was.

“So, he’s okay, right?” Namjoon cuts off the doctor mid-sentence, but thankfully they don’t seem to mind. Soobin wiggles his shoulders from within the swaddle, and Namjoon pauses to look down at his son.

His son.

Soobin is fine, hasn’t even opened his eyes.

The doctor nods, the hint of a smile playing at their lips. “Yes. Your husband is stable and with ample rest, should make a full recovery within the next few weeks.”

That’s all Namjoon needs to hear.

Jungkook is alive.

Jungkook is going to be okay.

Within minutes, the door to the hospital room is being slid open, and a barely conscious Jungkook is being wheeled in. His monitors beep steadily, a wild contrast to the last thing Namjoon had heard.

He’s alive.

He’s going to be okay.

Namjoon is at his side in a second, as soon as the nurses and technicians finish their job of situating Jungkook in the room and hooking up his monitors all over again.

“Hey, hyung,” Jungkook says weakly, but there’s the pink of life glowing in his cheeks, the rhythmic blip of the monitors announcing Jungkook’s still beating heart, the voice Namjoon needed so badly to hear.

Jungkook isn’t going anywhere.

And maybe it was Jungkook who ran straight to death’s door, but Namjoon finds it’s him who can suddenly breathe again.

Jungkook is here.

Namjoon will be okay.

“Missed you, baby,” Namjoon chokes.

Jungkook smiles and reaches out a shaking hand.

“Take good care of my baby while I was gone?”