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)( 0 )(
The thing is, Namjoon doesn’t know when he fell in love with Yoongi.
Well -- that’s not entirely true.
He definitely knows it had to have happened sometime between their first introduction and now. But the exact moment is… a little fuzzy.
Can people usually pinpoint the second they fall in love? Is it like flicking on a switch and flooding a dark room with light? Does it typically feel like some kind of grand event?
Namjoon doesn’t remember waking up one morning with this huge realization that he’s in love. It didn’t creep up on him or take him by surprise. But it never felt like it was something inevitable either. He hadn’t expected to fall for Yoongi when they started dating. Namjoon simply enjoyed Yoongi’s company and liked being around him.
Nowadays, when Namjoon looks at Yoongi, he can feel his chest swell with love. Yoongi could be doing the most mundane thing and Namjoon would still find him absolutely endearing.
And if that’s all it was -- this quick burst of affection rushing through him -- Namjoon would be fine with it. He would. But the problem is that it’s not. It’s not short and fleeting. Sometimes, Namjoon looks at Yoongi and is overcome with a wave of emotions. Sometimes, he catches himself wishing he could tell Yoongi what he’s feeling. Sometimes, he can already hear the words forming in his mind.
But every time it happens, Namjoon chickens out. He presses his lips together and swallows the words down.
It’s not that he’s afraid of rejection, because he knows Yoongi loves him. Namjoon’s hesitation boils down to timing. It never feels like the right time to tell Yoongi. See, Namjoon doesn’t want to make his confession a big spectacle, but he also doesn’t want to just blurt it out over movie night either.
Maybe if he had noticed how strong his feelings were sooner, he would’ve said something. (Not likely, but it’s an excuse he likes to bring up.)
So that’s where he is now. Stuck between desperately wanting to tell Yoongi he loves him at every possible moment and not wanting to tell Yoongi until the moment is right.
But Namjoon has set a goal for himself. He’s going to tell Yoongi before the year is over.
He just hopes he can find a good opportunity.
)( 1 )(
The start of the fall semester has always been Namjoon’s favorite time of year.
Even as a child, he had always loved the buzz surrounding the start of a new school year. Going shopping for new supplies with his mom, reuniting with friends on the playground, trading t-shirts for long sleeves and colorful sweaters.
When he had to move away for college, those sentimental feelings only grew.
Namjoon still remembers his first move-in day like it was yesterday. Driving several hours to campus the night before with his parents. Carrying boxes and bags from the car to his dorm. Organizing and then reorganizing all of his stuff. Having his first meal in the cafeteria. Participating in ice-breakers with the other students in his corridor.
Last year, the transition was much smoother. Namjoon and his parents already knew what to do and what to expect. It also helped that Namjoon was finally allowed to pick the dorm he wanted to stay in and the roommates he wanted to live with.
The freshman dorms were located at the opposite ends of the campus and after spending too many mornings running across the green to his 8 am class, Namjoon knew that when he became a sophomore, he wanted to stay in the dorms that were right in the center of campus.
As for his roommate, Namjoon had one choice in mind: Hoseok, an education major he’d met in an anatomy class. Their professor had paired them up as lab partners and they hit it off from the first meeting. Hoseok was scared of almost everything but he had a terrific memory, while Namjoon tended to miss some of the minor details but loved doing the hands-on activities.
Together, they made a pretty good team and became friends quite naturally. So when the time came to select roommates for the following year, they were easily each other’s choice.
But there was one problem… all of the rooms in the dorm Namjoon wanted to live in were triples.
Finding the third roommate turned into a long process. Hoseok wanted Hyungwon, a childhood friend who followed him to college, and Namjoon wanted Yoongi.
Hoseok had met Yoongi several times by then, but he wasn’t comfortable rooming with both Namjoon and Yoongi. He didn’t want to be the third wheel the whole time, and he reminded Namjoon how awkward it would be if Namjoon and Yoongi were to break up -- a possibility Namjoon didn’t want to think about, even though deep down he knew it was a sensible thing to prepare for.
Eventually, the two of them settled on a mutual acquaintance, Jackson. Namjoon had befriended him in an art class and Hoseok knew him from the Ultimate Frisbee Club (a club he’d once admitted -- not soberly -- that he joined only because he thought he’d be able to snag a jock).
At first, Namjoon was hesitant about sharing his space with two completely different people, but they ended up balancing each other out.
Hoseok was kind of a neat freak, whereas Namjoon and Jackson had a bad habit of forgetting to clean up after themselves. Namjoon didn’t show affection easily, while Hoseok and Jackson had no problem crawling into his bed and cuddling with him. Jackson loved to party, but Hoseok could barely hold his liquor and Namjoon prefered to stay in. When all’s said and done, it worked out great.
This year as juniors, they have the privilege of living in one of the suites on campus. Their private dorm has a full kitchen that opens up into a small living room, two bathrooms, and four bedrooms: two singles and two doubles. Hoseok finally got to invite his childhood friend to room with them, who also brought along his former roommate, Jooheon, and Jackson picked his friend Jaebum.
Although Namjoon’s met Hyungwon a few times before, he doesn’t know the other two very well, but he has a good feeling about it. Jaebum helped carry some of his boxes up earlier and when Namjoon was making small talk with Jooheon while unpacking, he discovered that they both like hip-hop, so he has no doubt that he’ll warm up to both of them soon.
With six guys trying to navigate the same space, move-in day is busier this time around, but Namjoon feels more relaxed than ever before. Everyone is clearly trying to put their best foot forward, offering to help with this and that. Together, they’re able to get everything sorted before the sun sets.
They’re all standing around the kitchen counter, deciding what to eat for dinner when Hoseok suggests, “Pizza?”
“Hell yeah,” Jackson says, already taking out his wallet to pitch in.
“We can pick it up when it’s ready,” Hyungwon adds, waving a thumb between himself and Jooheon.
“Sweet,” Hoseok murmurs, quickly typing something on his phone. Then he stops suddenly and looks up at all of them, a question in his eyes. “Beer?”
“I can ask Yoongi to buy us some,” Namjoon offers, reaching for his phone. “But order some soda anyway.” Technically, none of them are of legal drinking age until next year, but they’ve always managed to find ways around that.
Half an hour later, there are four pizza boxes scattered on the coffee table in the living area and ten people squeezed onto two couches.
Namjoon hasn’t been able to wrap his head around that last part.
When Hyungwon and Jooheon came back with the pizza, they had two other guys with them, who they introduced as Kihyun and Minhyuk. Namjoon had met Hoseok’s eyes when they walked in, but Hoseok just shrugged so Namjoon decided not to say anything. Plus, the two newcomers had three orders of chicken wings with them and none of the other guys seemed fazed by their intrusion, so Namjoon wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. However, once Yoongi showed up with the beer and claimed a spot on the sofa for his efforts, Jackson pouted and then called up his friend Mark.
So that’s how they ended up with ten guys in their living room, stuffing their faces with pizza and chugging down cheap beer.
They’ve got an American football game playing on the TV, but Yoongi keeps complaining every five seconds about how he doesn’t understand anything that’s going on and it’s distracting everyone.
Personally, Namjoon doesn’t really have any pressing opinions on sports, but Yoongi’s triade is highly entertaining.
“Hyung,” he says, cutting Yoongi off mid-sentence. “Just stop.”
“But I’m right!” Yoongi jumps up to his feet in protest and, in the process, slouches his beer all over the floor.
Instantly, a chorus of groans fills the room.
“Fuck, where’s the mop?” someone murmurs while someone else groans, “Dude, just sit down.”
“You’re blocking the TV,” Mark adds, leaning into Jackson’s side to see around Yoongi.
“But I’m right,” Yoongi repeats, and Namjoon can hear the pout in his voice. Sure enough, when Yoongi turns around and faces Namjoon, his bottom lip is jutted out in the cutest way.
God, Namjoon wants to get up and kiss him.
“Tell me I’m right.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” Kihyun appeases him, “What was the point of naming the sport football anyway? That’s the name for real football.”
“Exactly!” Yoongi shouts, plopping down beside Kihyun. He clinks his bottle against Kihyun’s and then takes a sip of his beer. “Finally, somebody with some sense.”
Watching the scene, Namjoon can’t help but feel fond.
Hyung, he thinks, the words practically tumbling out of his mouth, I love you.
But Namjoon quickly stops them before they can come out. The last thing he wants is for those words to leave his lips in a room full of nine other guys.
He doesn’t get a chance to chase that thought any further, because someone shouts something that sounds distinctly like, “What the fuck?”
Namjoon looks up at the same time that everyone else does, trying to figure out what the objection is about. It only takes him a second to realize the issue.
Across the room, Jooheon and Minhyuk are making out against the kitchen counter.
They pull away the second everyone looks over, blushing so hard Namjoon can see how red the tips of their ears are.
Another chorus of groans echoes through the air and Namjoon swears he hears someone whistle too.
“Get a room,” Jaebum tells them just as Hyungwon chirps, “Make sure you use protection.”
Jooheon throws the closest thing within reach at them, which turns out to be a plastic fork. It barely flies over the edge of the counter before falling dejectedly to the floor.
They all burst out laughing. Hoseok doubles over, falling off the couch, and Jackson spills his beer all over Mark’s lap.
“I’m leaving,” Jooheon states, stomping toward the door.
“But you live here,” Minhyuk reminds him, which just sends everyone into convulsions all over again.
As they settle down, Namjoon’s eyes look for Yoongi’s. When they meet, he’s reminded of the words he wanted to say earlier. But he swallows them down again and forces a smile instead, hoping Yoongi doesn’t notice something’s amiss.
)( 2 )(
The thing Namjoon hates the most about being an English major is having to write a shit ton of essays.
Well, actually he has to write essays for most of his classes, but especially in his English classes. And the essay topics are always worded so strangely, half the time Namjoon doesn’t even understand what his professors actually want him to write about.
Sigh. This is the life he chose, isn’t it?
Right now, Namjoon is sitting in the living room, wearing just his boxers and an old hoodie, staring at his laptop. He should probably go to the library so he can concentrate better -- or at least slip into a pair of pants -- but it’s the middle of the day, his roommates are out, and he has no other classes for the rest of the day, so he really can’t be bothered.
He’s supposed to be working on an essay, but all he’s been doing for the past hour is typing and erasing twelve variations of the same sentence.
“God,” he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. He has a general idea of what he wants to say, what kind of message he wants to convey, but the words just aren’t coming across the way he wants them to. Writing is something he likes to think that he’s good at, so when he hits a slump, it kind of feels like the end of the world.
He sighs loudly, drumming his fingers against his knee.
It would do him some good to take a walk and clear his head. Maybe he should go down to the cafeteria and grab something to eat too. But that would involve having to move and putting on clothes, which he’s very much against at the moment.
Namjoon sighs again and glances at the time. Jaebum is supposed to be back from his shift at Dunkin Donuts soon. Namjoon doesn’t think Jaebum would mind seeing him sitting on their couch in just his underwear (all of his roommates have seen him in various states of undress early in the morning when he’s dragging his feet to the bathroom), but still. He should appear to be somewhat decent, right?
Just as Namjoon takes another look at his dreaded essay, the door to their suite opens.
Since he’s expecting Jaebum, he’s taken off guard when Yoongi walks through the threshold instead. He stares at him, dumbfounded and wondering how Yoongi has a key to their room, before remembering he went to Home Depot the other week to make him a copy. Right. But that doesn’t explain why Yoongi’s here. Namjoon racks his brain for a moment, trying to recall if they agreed to meet or something, but comes up empty.
“Hey,” Yoongi says, toeing off his shoes before heading straight toward where Namjoon is sitting.
“What are you doing here?” Namjoon blurts out, completely forgetting all about greetings. But it’s really not his fault, not when Yoongi’s the one dressed in skin-tight jeans and a sweater that reaches mid-thigh. Namjoon’s impressed that he was able to say anything at all when it feels like he just swallowed his tongue.
Good God.
He must look like a fish out of water, because Yoongi snorts and shakes his head. “I came here to distract you, silly,” he replies, gently extracting Namjoon’s laptop from his hold and placing it on the coffee table.
Namjoon isn’t even allowed a chance to disagree, because Yoongi plops down into his lap and starts kissing the life out of him.
It takes his brain a moment to realize what’s happening, to get his mouth to cooperate and kiss Yoongi back. His hands follow only seconds later, slipping underneath the hem of Yoongi’s sweater and settling on Yoongi’s ass. He pulls him closer, groaning when the movement causes Yoongi to rub against his dick, barely covered behind a thin layer of boxers.
It really should be a little mortifying, if not at least embarrassing, how fast he gets hard when Yoongi is in his lap. Unfortunately, Yoongi discovered his weakness very early into their relationship and has been using it against him ever since. Namjoon can already feel him smirking against his lips. Jerk.
“Mhm,” Yoongi mumbles, wiggling around to get more comfortable and making Namjoon gasp when he brushes up against him. He smooths his hands down Namjoon’s chest and then drags them back up, cupping Namjoon’s face as he presses him against the upholstery.
And yeah, this is so much better than writing some stupid essay. Yoongi always has the best ideas. Thank God.
Groaning, Namjoon grabs Yoongi’s ass in both hands and squeezes it roughly, swallowing the whimper Yoongi lets out. His hips twitch every time Yoongi bears down on him and he can barely keep up with the filthy kiss Yoongi is giving him.
“Hyung,” he gasps, pulling back to get some breath into his lungs.
But Yoongi just grasps Namjoon’s jaw and shoves his tongue back into Namjoon’s mouth, grinding down in Namjoon’s lap.
“Fuck,” Namjoon moans, shivering from the intensity of Yoongi’s actions. He doesn’t know what’s gotten Yoongi so worked up, but he sure as hell doesn’t mind. He only wishes they could slow down for a second so that he can enjoy this longer.
The thought brings an idea to his mind.
Wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s back, Namjoon tilts them over, laying Yoongi down on the couch and rolling on top of him.
It happens so fast and so flawlessly that the impact throws him off. He pulls away, panting, and gapes down at Yoongi, who stares back at him with an equally shocked expression.
What the fuck? Did Namjoon really just do that? Was he actually able to pull off such a (sexy) move without injuring either of them? (One time he thought it’d be a good idea to hold Yoongi up against the wall. He doesn’t like to think about how horribly that had failed.)
“Holy shit,” he breathes, not quite believing it. “Holy shit.”
“Oh my God,” Yoongi whispers, just as stunned. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are wide, mouth hanging open and hair spread out. He swallows audibly and puts his hands on Namjoon’s shoulders. “That was hot.”
“Yeah,” Namjoon murmurs. His mind is still reiling, but the look Yoongi is giving him snaps him out of his daze easily. He slides a hand under Yoongi’s sweater, licking his lips when he finds Yoongi’s not wearing anything underneath, and rubs his palm over Yoongi’s quivering stomach.
“Joon,” Yoongi moans, tilting his head back and arching up into Namjoon’s hand, cock straining against his jeans and sweater tucked up to his nipples.
God, the things Namjoon would give to see Yoongi naked and spread out for him.
He bends down with every intention to continue what Yoongi started, feeling incredibly turned on from the way Yoongi is looking at him, but the moment their lips are only a breath away, Namjoon’s hood decides to droop over his head and cover up half his face.
Yoongi at least gives him a few moments of silence out of respect for his dignity before finally cracking up.
“Hyung,” Namjoon whines, feeling like a kid who’s accidently dropped his ice cream on the floor. “Don’t laugh.” The hood has fallen over his eyes so Namjoon can’t exactly see Yoongi very well, just his nose and mouth, but from the sounds of it, Yoongi is still having a field day over this. Namjoon tries to shake the hood off, but Yoongi grabs the drawstrings on either side and pulls on them.
In seconds, Namjoon’s whole face is squished, much to Yoongi’s amusement.
Yoongi is laughing so hard, Namjoon can feel his whole body shaking beneath him from the force of it. There’s barely any sound coming out of him either, just an occasional squeak here and there, and when Namjoon catches Yoongi’s gummy smile out of the corner of his eyes, he realizes the absurdity of the situation and starts to laugh too.
“Oh, you big goof,” Yoongi says, but the fondness is so evident in his voice. Carefully, he lets go of the drawstrings and pulls back the hood so Namjoon can look at him.
When their eyes connect, Yoongi grins so hard his eyes almost disappear, and in that moment, Namjoon’s heart feels so big, it hurts to breathe.
Hyung, he thinks, tasting the words settling on the tip of his tongue, I’m in love with you.
But no, he -- he’s wearing his boxers and they’re lying on the sofa in the living room where any one of his roommates could come in and see them.
Yoongi deserves to hear Namjoon’s words in a better setting.
So instead, he ducks down and hides his face against Yoongi’s neck, willing his heart to stop hammering so loudly, hearing the unspoken words replay over and over in his head.
)( 3 )(
Namjoon’s favorite place on campus is the library.
When he was a freshman, he had a roommate who spent his afternoons listening to heavy metal and smoking with the window open. Namjoon could handle the heavy metal most days, but the smell of cigarettes constantly gave him a headache. The dorms have study lounges, but Namjoon’s never quite taken a liking to them.
So the library has become something like a sanctuary to him. It’s always quiet, warm, and Namjoon thinks there’s something homey about it too. The first floor has windows that reach the ceiling of the second floor and there are little, secluded nooks scattered all around. He favors the one tucked away in the back corner, where the windows face a walkway lined with trees and the armchairs are big and comfy.
Every time Namjoon comes to the library, he either gets a lot of work done or spends too much time staring outside, daydreaming.
Luckily, today it’s the former.
Midterms are around the corner and Namjoon has spent all day reviewing for his history exam. Every now and then, he’ll look up and gaze outside, watch a handful of leaves float through the air or catch a passerby on their way to the cafeteria -- but mainly, he keeps his focus on his notebook.
He’s trying to make sense of some scribbles he made when he notices a figure approaching him out of the corner of his eyes.
At first, Namjoon doesn’t pay them any attention, guessing it’s just another student coming to snag the empty armchair across from him, but when the person stops a few paces in front of him, he decides to take a glance at them.
Yoongi isn’t the last person Namjoon’s expecting to see standing there, but he’s certainly not the first either.
“Oh,” he murmurs, not quite managing to hold back his surprise. “Hey, hyung.” He reaches for his headphones and tugs them out of his ears, looking Yoongi over at the same time.
Clad in black jeans and boots, Yoongi’s pulled on a long trench coat over a black turtleneck.
Now, Namjoon has hated turtlenecks ever since he was a kid, because his mom would always make him wear them to school, but Yoongi looks absolutely incredible in one.
“Hey,” Yoongi replies, dropping a takeout bag on the low coffee table in front of Namjoon. “Did your phone die? You haven’t been answering my texts.”
“Oh, sorry,” Namjoon says, instantly feeling guilty for ignoring him though he didn’t do it on purpose. Generally, he turns off his notifications while he’s studying so that he doesn’t get distracted, but sometimes he gets so carried away in his little schoolwork bubble that he loses sight of everything else around him. He pats his pockets, but doesn’t find his phone there. “Shit, where’d it go?”
He catches Yoongi rolling his eyes, but Namjoon knows there’s no malice there. “It’s right here,” Yoongi mumbles, shoving his arm between Namjoon’s thigh and the side of the armchair. When he pulls back, Namjoon’s phone is sitting in the palm of his hand. “I saw it fall when you were taking off your headphones.”
Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “Ah, thanks.”
“You probably would’ve forgotten it there,” Yoongi points out, but not unkindly. Namjoon has an embarrassing history of leaving behind his belongings -- especially his phone -- and only realizing after he’s walked away.
“Yeah, probably,” he mutters, thanking Yoongi again as he passes over the phone. The moment Namjoon has his phone back, he switches on his notifications and in seconds, a string of texts from Yoongi show up.
hey are you busy?
i was thinking of getting something to eat, are you hungry?
hoseok said youve been at the library all day, when was the last time you ate?
im gonna get mcdonalds, do you want something?
Well if Namjoon was feeling guilty before, he feels downright shitty after reading Yoongi’s texts. “Fuck, hyung, I’m sorry,” Namjoon tells him, “I didn’t know.”
Yoongi just waves a dismissive hand through the air, shrugging off his coat.
Namjoon probably shouldn’t be paying attention to the way Yoongi’s turtleneck hugs the curves of his waist, but it’s really hard to ignore.
“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi assures Namjoon, tossing his coat onto the nearby armchair before opening up the takeout bag. “I got you the double quarter pounder anyway.”
Technically, food’s not really allowed in the library, but they’re so far away from the service desk that Namjoon doubts the employees will notice. And at any rate, the burger Yoongi sets down in front of him smells so delicious, there’s no way Namjoon could pass it up, especially when he hasn’t eaten anything in hours.
“Oh wow, hyung,” he says, suddenly feeling rather breathless. Even to his own ears, his voice sounds somewhat ragged -- which is kind of ridiculous, because he shouldn’t be so affected. It’s just a greasy burger and some over-salted fries.
It’s just that, Namjoon never expected something like this. Not only did Yoongi take the time out of his day to get him food, but he also bought Namjoon’s favorite. Namjoon doesn’t even think he knows which burger Yoongi prefers, but Yoongi remembers his order.
He’s really touched.
“Man, thank you,” he murmurs, swallowing past the lump that forms in his throat. He sets his notebook aside and leans forward, grabbing the fries Yoongi hands over. “You didn’t have to.”
Yoongi only shrugs, but Namjoon knows his gratitude is appreciated. “Just don’t forget me when you become a New York Times Bestselling Author.”
“Hyung,” Namjoon bows his head and presses his lips together against an embarrassed smile, pulling at the collar of his shirt.
It’s somewhat of a running joke between the two of them, that some famous publisher is going to discover Namjoon and he’s going to land his big break. Then they can live off of royalties for the rest of their life and never work again. Although it’s a nice fantasy to think about, Namjoon doesn’t dare allow himself to really indulge in it. He knows all too well that being a writer isn’t exactly a sustainable career, that only a small fraction of writers actually make good money. His only hope is that he’ll at least be able to make time in his life to do what he’s passionate about and share it with others.
“Anyway,” Yoongi drawls, snickering at Namjoon’s flustered face. He sits down across from Namjoon and picks up one of the sodas. “What are you studying for?”
“Midterms,” Namjoon mumbles around a mouthful of fries. “History.”
“Ugh,” Yoongi groans, shaking his head in disdain. “The bane of my existence.”
“I thought that was math?” Namjoon points out, remembering the Calculus II class where they had met during his first semester.
“Fuck no,” Yoongi scoffs, but there’s barely any spite to his voice. “Math brought the two of us together. How could I ever hate such a sacred subject?”
Namjoon fake gags, but his face feels hot and he can’t help but chuckle.
They fall into conversation easily after that, slowly making their way through the food Yoongi bought. Namjoon asks Yoongi how his capstone project is going, something that’s been stressing him out nonstop since the semester started. As expected, Yoongi groans and goes off on a spiel about it, but he ends up showing Namjoon one of the pieces he’s working on. It’s a play-fountain designed like a snowflake with the water coming out of the branches. Namjoon hums in approval as Yoongi talks about it. Very unique.
Eventually, all that’s left on the table between them is empty containers and crumbled up food wrappers. The pleasant talk and the comfort food has made Namjoon drowsy. He’s about to suggest they go to his room and take a nap, but Yoongi jumps out of his seat and reaches for the takeout bag again. “Oh, I almost forgot… I picked up some hotteok too.”
“Wait -- hotteok?” Namjoon couldn’t have heard that right. He’s been craving some for days, even whined about it to Yoongi the other night. But he doesn’t have a driver’s license and the closest place that sells them is an hour’s bus ride away.
There’s no way Yoongi just hopped into his car and drove all the way there, just to buy some hotteok for Namjoon.
And yet, Yoongi pulls out a pancake covered in a napkin and hands it over. Namjoon gapes at him, feeling his throat seize up. He holds out his hand, jaw hanging open, and Yoongi drops the pancake in his palm. It’s still warm.
Damn, Namjoon’s chest feels tight all of the sudden.
Remembering Namjoon’s McDonald’s order is one thing, treating Namjoon to some fast food when he’s been holed up in the library for hours is another thing, but driving two cities over just to buy one thing Namjoon has been craving is something entirely different.
Hyung, he thinks, feeling his breath hitch as his eyes fall on Yoongi. I love you so much.
And it would be a perfect time to tell him, it really would, except for the fact that he can still taste the burger on his tongue and they’re in a library. What’s more is that there’s a student sitting like ten feet away from them by the bookshelf. Namjoon’s pretty sure they passed out half an hour ago, but still. He doesn’t want his first time telling Yoongi his feelings to be in the back corner of the library, when his breath smells downright awful.
So he clears his throat instead, shaking off the tears that have welled up in his eyes from Yoongi’s sentimental actions. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Yoongi tells him and Namjoon can hear the smile in his voice despite the fact that he’s trying to come off as unfazed.
Namjoon nods numbly, carefully taking a bite and wondering, not for the first time in his life, when the Yoongi shaped space in his heart became so big.
)( 4 )(
See, Namjoon doesn’t want to sound shallow, but watching Yoongi take his cock is one of his favorite sights in the world.
Right now, he’s got Yoongi in his lap, slowly bouncing up and down, while he lies on his back, head propped on a pillow.
Yoongi doesn’t have the thigh strength to ride Namjoon for a long time, but that never seems to stop him from climbing on top of Namjoon and taking what he wants. But they’ve been going at it for a while and Namjoon doesn’t miss the way Yoongi’s legs shake every time he lifts himself up. When Namjoon slides a hand down Yoongi’s thigh, he can feel Yoongi tremble beneath his fingers.
“You okay?” he asks, dragging his palm back up Yoongi’s body. He curls his fingers around Yoongi’s waist, stroking his thumb across Yoongi’s skin.
“Yeah,” Yoongi mumbles, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he bends forward and grinds down on Namjoon’s cock.
“God,” Namjoon groans, squeezing Yoongi’s waist as he bucks up against him. Shit, the way Yoongi clenches around his dick is making him see stars.
And Yoongi doesn’t give him a chance to catch his breath. Pressing his hands against Namjoon’s fluttering stomach, Yoongi starts to rock back and forth slowly.
Namjoon’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. “Fuck, hyung.” When he grabs onto Yoongi’s waist this time, he knows he’s being too rough, knows that his fingers are going to leave imprints for days, but Yoongi just moans loudly, squirming on Namjoon’s lap.
“Yeah,” Yoongi says again, but he sounds more breathless than he did a second ago.
He really shouldn’t look as hot as he does -- cheeks flushed around his overgrown stubble, hair sticking to the sides of his face at old angles, dick flailing around as he sinks down onto Namjoon’s cock over and over -- but there’s this desperate, hungry look in his hooded eyes that always drives Namjoon a little wild.
Groaning, Namjoon sits up -- much more fluidly than he would’ve half a year ago thanks to the recent core workouts he’s been doing. He spreads his legs a little, bending his knees, and when Yoongi settles down into his lap it’s with a loud smack that causes both of them groan.
“Jesus,” Namjoon murmurs, hands gravitating toward Yoongi’s butt. He cups Yoongi’s ass, so soft and small and perfect, helping him move for a few seconds. Simply watching the way Yoongi’s cheeks jiggle with each bounce turns him on. “Oh God,” he moans, leaning forward to tuck his face against Yoongi’s throat, unable to look at the image any longer. When his breath blows across the side of Yoongi’s neck, Yoongi hisses, clutching his shoulders and clenching around his cock. “Shit,” Namjoon murmurs, hips bucking up into that tight heat. Yoongi swears above him, and his voice sounds so husky it makes Namjoon shiver, lips parting against Yoongi’s skin. He mouths at Yoongi’s neck idly, squeezing Yoongi’s ass to get a moan out of him.
“Fuck,” Yoongi gasps, grabbing the back of Namjoon’s neck and dragging him closer. Namjoon takes the hint easily, presses his tongue to Yoongi’s throat and sucks until Yoongi is shaking in his arms, tugging on his hair. “Joon,” Yoongi croaks, sounding out of breath, and Namjoon relents, switching to tender kisses to soothe the pain. A desperate, little whine slips out of Yoongi as he presses up against Namjoon and starts to ride him with more fervor.
His cock is trapped between their bodies, dragging against Namjoon’s chest and smearing pre-come over Namjoon’s skin. Namjoon really should reach for it, get Yoongi off now that he’s getting close. But Namjoon doesn’t want this to end yet. Today’s their two year anniversary and it’s the first time they’ve had a moment alone in weeks. And Namjoon’s still got some stamina left in him, so he’s going to use it.
Carefully, he winds an arm around Yoongi’s back and tucks the other one underneath Yoongi’s thigh. In a move he can only credit to the countless hours he’s spent working out, Namjoon tips forward slowly and puts Yoongi down on his back.
But the second Yoongi’s back hits the mattress, he lets out a soft cry -- and it’s not the sexy kind. “Wait, wait, wait,” he wails, sounding so pained Namjoon’s blood runs cold.
Namjoon jerks back, rushing to sit up and look at Yoongi.
“No -- no, it’s fine,” Yoongi says, probably noticing the worry in Namjoon’s eyes. “Just -- ” His face twists into a grimace and he sighs in frustration.
Peering down at him, Namjoon realizes what the issue is. In his haste, he pushed Yoongi’s legs down too far, nearly pressing Yoongi’s thighs down against his chest. Yoongi’s discomfort just boils down to being inflexible.
“Sorry,” Namjoon mutters, pulling back. He bites down on his lip to suppress a giggle, finding the whole situation entirely amusing, but then Yoongi releases this content, relieved sigh and Namjoon can’t hold back anymore. He chuckles and then, upon seeing Yoongi’s confused face, bursts into laughter.
“What?” Yoongi wonders, bottom lip jutting out. This cute, little groove forms between his eyebrows -- and it’s in this moment that Namjoon’s stomach flips.
God hyung, he thinks, feeling those familiar words materalize on his tongue, I fucking love you.
For a brief moment, he actually contemplates saying them. It’s the two year anniversary for crying out loud. Aren’t these the kind of confessions usually encouraged at a time like this? But then Namjoon remembers the position they’re currently in and shakes the thought away. He’s heard before that blurting out those famous three words for the first time to a partner duing sex is rather shallow, not to mention somewhat manipulative.
Namjoon could argue that technically they aren’t fucking at the moment because they’ve stopped and so his feelings aren’t the cause of some coital-based hormones. But he is, quite literally, balls deep in Yoongi and he can’t deny that there is something spellbinding about that feeling.
So instead, he puts his thoughts aside, plants his hand on Yoongi’s hips and gives a long, drawn-out thrust that makes Yoongi’s eyes roll back.
The year’s not over, he reminds himself. Certainly, there will be other times to tell Yoongi how he feels.
)( 5 )(
Before Namjoon knows it, it’s already the end of the semester and winter is around the corner.
Final exams are only a week away, so he’ll be holed up in the library pretty soon, stuffing his brain with facts he won’t remember a month from now.
But Namjoon doesn’t want to think about those things tonight, because tonight Yoongi has an architecture exhibition for his capstone class. Tonight, all of Yoongi’s hard work over the past three and a half years will be displayed. All of the blood, sweat, and tears he’s poured into his major. All of the sleepless nights he’s spent poring over his studies. All of hours he’s exhausted trying to perfect his projects. All of that comes down to tonight.
He’s not done with his program just yet, but he’s in the home stretch now. Next semester, he’ll have his practicum and then he’ll be graduating.
And Namjoon’s been on this journey with him for two years. He knows how much all of this means to Yoongi. He’s seen how much time and effort Yoongi has dedicated to learning his craft.
Just thinking about it fills Namjoon with immense pride and love. He can’t wait to see what Yoongi will accomplish in the future.
“Shit, bro, are you crying already?”
“No,” Namjoon squawks, quickly ducking his face out of Hoseok’s sight. He’s just getting ahead of himself and that’s making him feel sentimental. Secretly, he pats the waterline of his eyes, but Hoseok notices his reflection in the window and chuckles softly. “I’m just excited for hyung, you know?” Namjoon rushes to defend himself. He didn’t mean to get all sappy so early on. They haven’t even made it to the exhibition yet. “I mean this is… this is a pretty big deal for him,” Namjoon says, taking in a deep breath and hoping it’ll quell his feelings. “Yoongi’s worked really hard for this moment.”
“Yeah, he has,” Hoseok agrees, smiling softly. Following a brief silence, he reaches over and pokes Namjoon’s cheek. “But save the waterworks for afterwards. Preferably during sex.”
“Hoseok,” Namjoon hisses, shoving him impulsively. Jesus, could he have said that any louder?
The elderly woman sitting across from them on the bus raises an eyebrow in their direction and Namjoon bows his head and picks at the seam of his slacks, trying to avoid her accusatory gaze.
Hoseok feigns ignorance when Namjoon glances over at him, but the subtle upward quirk of his mouth tells Namjoon he’s trying his best to smother a laugh.
Namjoon sighs and shakes his head, but even he can’t stop the smile that stretches across his face.
Fortunately, their destination comes up quickly after that.
Once Hoseok pulls the string to signal the driver, he and Namjoon get out of their seats and walk toward the rear door.
At their stop, they set out into the frigid air, no longer cocooned in the warmth that surrounded them in the bus.
“It’s this way,” Hoseok says, peeking at the Maps App that’s opened on his phone before pointing to their left. “Just a couple blocks down the street.”
If it was any other night, Namjoon would’ve taken his time walking. Many of the buildings on their path are lit up with lights and decorations, making everything look bright and magical. But, Namjoon underestimated how cold it was going to be outside and forgot to bring a coat. All he’s wearing beneath his blazer is a thin long sleeve and it’s doing nothing to keep him from shuddering.
The Maps App states it’ll take them eight minutes to reach the exhibition, but they get there in five. They squeeze inside when they arrive, sighing in relief when they feel warm air blow at their faces by the entrance.
Pausing in the foyer, Namjoon lets his eyes wander around the room. He told Yoongi they’d be here, but he doesn’t see him anywhere.
“Would you like a brochure?”
Namjoon spins around and comes face to face with someone holding a stack of flyers. “Oh yeah, thank you,” he says, reaching for one when it’s passed to him.
“Are you here to see anything in particular?” they ask as Namjoon starts flipping through the pamphlet, scanning the list of student names.
“Yoongi Min,” Hoseok answers, “We’re here to see his work.”
“Ah.” The guide nods sagely, shuffling the flyers in their hands. “Most of his work is in the left corner, but you’ll find some of his pieces scattered throughout the room.”
“Oh thank you,” Namjoon tells them, looking up from his brochure.
They hum softly, nodding again. “You’re welcome. Hope you enjoy your time.”
“Thanks,” Hoseok mumbles, and once the guide walks off, he turns to face Namjoon. “Left corner?”
Namjoon bites the corner of his lip and reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “I kind of wanted to see the whole exhibit if that’s okay with you?”
Hoseok shakes his head, but there’s already a smile replacing his grimace. “Alright then. Where to first?”
The exhibition is divided into four sections to represent the seasons. Every student enrolled in the program, regardless of their year, had to construct something for a season of their choice. The seniors however had two tasks, (1) to present a piece for each season and (2) to develop a collection of works focusing on one of the seasons. Yoongi’s main project is located in the spring section, but he also made creations for the other seasons, so his name shows up often.
Namjoon and Hoseok start in the summer section and when they move onto fall, they finally spot Yoongi.
“Hyung!” Hoseok notices him first and barrels over, enveloping Yoongi in a bone-crushing hug.
Yoongi’s face breaks into a grin as he hugs him back. “Hey, Hob-ah.”
“We just saw your summer piece,” Hoseok tells Yoongi when they pull apart. “It was so pretty.”
It really was. Yoongi had designed a drinking fountain in the shape of a flower.
“Oh -- that was just something I came up with at the last minute,” Yoongi tells him, dismissing the praise. “But don’t tell my professor.”
Hoseok slaps Yoongi’s shoulder, but he’s giggling and Yoongi’s doing a poor job of hiding his own smile.
While they bicker playfully, Namjoon takes the time to look Yoongi over.
When he had been getting ready for tonight, he had spent a long time trying to decide on what to put on. He wasn’t sure how formal the setting was and Yoongi hadn’t mentioned anything about a dress code, so Namjoon had felt rather clueless. But seeing Yoongi wearing black slacks and a white button-up with a tie makes Namjoon feel better about his own dark slacks and blazer.
“Which one’s yours?” Hoseok asks Yoongi, “Where’s your fall piece?”
“Mine?” Yoongi glances around the room, like he forgot where it was placed. His eyes light up a second later. “Oh, it’s here.” He walks a few steps over before stopping in front of a small structure.
Namjoon slides up beside him to take a closer look. It’s an arrangement he saw Yoongi working on at the beginning of the semester. Yoongi created an arc out of two leaves by giving them the likeness of humans. The two leaves are standing a few paces away from each other, stretching out toward one another and meeting in the middle.
“Wow,” Hoseok whispers and Namjoon can hear the awe in his voice. “Hyung, you made this?”
Those were the same words Namjoon said to Yoongi when he first landed eyes on the project.
Once again, Yoongi tries to discredit his hard work and brush aside his self-worth. “Ah, it was nothing,” he mumbles, fidgeting with his tie. “I just came up with the idea. Someone else actually helped me build it.”
“Yeah, but still,” Hoseok insists, leaning closer to see all the details. “This is sick.”
“It is,” Namjoon agrees, “Hyung really did a good job.”
Yoongi’s still looking down at the floor, but at least he doesn’t refute Namjoon’s words, so Namjoon’s going to count it as a win.
Before Namjoon can add anything else, a tall woman appears beside them. “Min!” she whispers, but there’s dismay in her voice and frustration in her eyes. When she looks at Yoongi, her eyebrows rise up so high that several lines of wrinkles appear on her forehead.
“Oh fuck -- sorry professor,” Yoongi apologizes, quickly straightening out his tie.
The woman gives him a dirty look, but leaves without another word.
“Shit,” Yoongi swears, “I forgot -- I gotta go mingle.” He runs a shaky hand through his styled hair and looks over at Namjoon and Hoseok. “You’re going to go through the whole exhibit, right?”
“That’s the plan,” Hoseok chirps, “Got two more seasons to visit.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later,” Yoongi tells them, “I’ll try to find you before you leave.”
He turns to leave, but Namjoon reaches for him. “Wait -- hyung.” One strand of his hair has fallen out of place and Namjoon gently tucks it behind Yoongi’s ear. “There.”
Yoongi’s face glows red and he drops his gaze to the floor. “Thanks,” he mumbles before scampering away.
“Wow,” Hoseok says dryly, drawing out the vowel. “So romantic. Is there a trail of rose petals leading to our dorm that I should be aware of?”
This time when Namjoon shoves Hoseok and causes him to almost crash into a sculpture, he only feels a tiny bit sorry.
Eventually, they make it to the end of the exhibition where the spring pieces are being showcased, where Yoongi’s main project is.
Namjoon is… not nervous exactly, but a little anxious to see what Yoongi’s come up with. The spring collection is the only arrangement that Yoongi’s kept Namjoon in the dark about. Every time Namjoon bugged Yoongi to show him what he was working on, Yoongi claimed he wasn’t finished yet and that he didn’t want anyone to see his design until it was complete.
So Namjoon’s not nervous. He’s just… well, he can feel his heart beat louder as he rounds the corner and enters the spring section. He tries to stay calm by scanning the other pieces, reading the object labels hanging next to the more elaborate collections, but no amount of stalling could’ve prepared Namjoon for how speechless Yoongi’s project leaves him.
It’s a series of three structures standing together. Two of them resemble housing complexes, but Yoongi has manipulated their shapes. The foremost building has four faces and every one of them is different. Its first side is made up of piercing icicles, but they melt into snowflakes on the next wall. For the next side, they’ve molded into stems, and by the fourth, they’ve grown into flowers.
The second piece has an identical theme, except its transformation happens on the same surface of the building. Icicles run along the foundation and then change into snowflakes soon after. About halfway up the wall, they warp into stems and then bloom into flowers. The whole building seems to twist and shrink with each shift too. It starts off with a triangular base, but is reduced to a narrow tip at the top.
In between the two buildings is a park bench on which a man sits. Following the theme of the project, the legs and the arms of the bench are shaped like icicles, but the seat and the backrest are designed out of snowflakes. The lower half of the man’s body is made up of stems, while the upper half is formed out of flowers. In the man’s right hand is a pencil and on his lap lies an open notebook. Out of the tip of the pencil fall tiny pieces. It’s hard to make out if they’re supposed to be snowflakes or petals or even specks of dust. But one thing is clear, when they land on the pages of the notebook, they take on the form of a clematis -- Namjoon’s birth flower.
Just below the bench, there’s a sentence scribbled in Yoongi’s handwriting.
The Writer, it reads, On A Spring Day.
“Fuck,” Namjoon breathes, numbly lifting a hand up to cover his mouth.
Yoongi… he… he…
Reeling from shock, Namjoon staggers back a step, feeling his throat tighten up.
“Hey, Joon?” Hoseok’s voice comes from somewhere beside him and Namjoon rushes to reign in his feelings, blinking past his blurry vision.
“Yeah… sorry,” Namjoon mumbles.
“I’m gonna go see if they have a bathroom,” Hoseok tells him and Namjoon knows it’s really a cop-out, that Hoseok’s just trying to give him some space to himself, but he’s grateful either way.
Hoseok slips away quietly, leaving Namjoon to stare at Yoongi’s piece alone.
The Writer On A Spring Day.
Namjoon shakes his head, but the smile on his face only grows. He stares down at his shoes, feeling giddy and happy and amazed and -- God, he --
“Oh.” A voice speaks up behind him. “You found it.”
It’s Yoongi, but Namjoon doesn’t know what to say to him. He wonders how much of his emotions are showing on his face right now. He wonders if Yoongi will be able to tell what he’s feeling from just one look.
“So,” Yoongi drawls as he comes to stand next to Namjoon. For a moment, he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, nibbling on the side of his lip. His voice is so small when he looks up at Namjoon and says, “What do you think?”
“Honestly?” Namjoon asks, but the only thought going through his mind right now is how much he wants to run down the street and tell everyone about his amazing boyfriend, who is so stunning and so talented and so --
Without thinking, Namjoon leans down and kisses him.
Yoongi makes this soft, surprised sound, probably taken aback by the sudden gesture -- and with good reason. Neither of them show affection too easily, especially not in public.
Despite that, Yoongi responds quickly, sliding a hand up to the curve of Namjoon’s neck and parting his lips. Namjoon sighs softly into his mouth and slips an arm around Yoongi’s back.
When they pull apart, Yoongi’s eyes are closed, but there’s this glow on his face and Namjoon feels like he’s looking at him in a whole new light.
Hyung, he thinks, and this time the words taste so sweet in his mouth, so ripe. I love you so fucking much.
Except when he opens his mouth, he remembers that this is Yoongi’s moment, not his. He came here to support Yoongi, not impose his confession on him.
So instead, he drops his forehead against Yoongi’s, sighing. “Hyung -- ”
But Yoongi doesn’t let him finish. He tilts his face up and captures Namjoon’s lips in another deep, slow kiss.
Namjoon sucks in a sharp breath through his nose and pulls Yoongi closer, wraps his arm around Yoongi’s waist and brings his other hand up to cup Yoongi’s jaw.
This time, Yoongi breaks away first, wiping his lips with the back of his head and blushing furiously. “Sorry,” he says, looking sheepish, but it’s no surprise since neither of them initiate PDA often. “Sorry, just -- ”
“No, it’s fine,” Namjoon assures him, “I kissed you first.”
Yoongi lowers his gaze to the floor, sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.
“Hyung.” Namjoon waits until Yoongi’s eyes are back on him before he says, “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” Yoongi replies, and his eyes are sparkling when he says it.
There’s more that Namjoon should add, like Hyung, you inspire me to be a better person, and I want to stay by your side for a long time, but there’ll be other opportunities. He’s sure of it.
For now, he dips down and kisses Yoongi one more time.
)( = )(
In the morning, Namjoon wakes up to the sound of the coffee brewing.
Groaning, he rolls over in bed, taking the sheets with him. He’s expecting to crash into another body or at least hear a grumble of protest, so when he doesn’t, he gets confused. Sluggishly, he lifts up his head and opens his heavy eyelids.
Yoongi’s not lying beside him.
For a second, Namjoon wonders if he’s still dreaming, but then he hears a cupboard close in the kitchen.
Ah. Well, that would explain who’s making coffee.
Breathing out a sigh, Namjoon sits up in bed. He feels a little disoriented, but he’s not sure if it’s from waking up suddenly or from waking up alone. In all honesty, Namjoon thought he and Yoongi were going to have sex when they woke up, so Yoongi not being here puts a damper on his plans.
Grunting, he decides to get out of bed. Maybe he can convince Yoongi to take a shower with him. The thought puts a smile on his face and tosses the blanket off his lap. Big mistake. He completely forgot how freezing Yoongi’s apartment is in the morning. Shivering, he hunts down a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. By the time he’s finished getting dressed, his hard-on has gone down.
Namjoon frowns at his dick, a little disappointed with its betrayal.
Oh well. Maybe it’s for the best. Yoongi’s roommate could be awake and Namjoon would rather not run into him with a boner in his pants. Again.
Luckily, the roommate is nowhere in sight and Yoongi’s the only one in the kitchen. He’s sitting at the two-person table with a cup of coffee, reading a book.
“Morning,” Namjoon says as he walks into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee machine.
“Hey,” Yoongi replies, but he sounds distant. He’s probably just engrossed in what he’s reading.
Once Namjoon fixes himself a cup of coffee, he turns around to face Yoongi -- and promptly forgets how to breathe.
Sitting with one leg crossed over the other, Yoongi is wearing his Iron Man pjs and the cat slippers his roommate bought him. His hair is pushed off his forehead with the hairband he uses when he washes his face, like he forgot to take it off when he left the bathroom. And on top of everything, he’s wearing his prescription glasses, the ones he hates with a passion but Namjoon absolutely adores.
Combined with the cup of coffee by his side and the book in front of him, the whole scene looks so domestic that it does something funny to Namjoon’s heart.
Hyung, he thinks, feeling those incessant words rise to the back of his throat. I’m in love with you.
He waits for his brain to remind him as to why this isn’t a good time, but it never comes, because right now is a good time. They’re alone, they’re not in the middle of sex. There’s no special event that Namjoon will be interrupting with his revelation. Now is the perfect time.
“Hey, hyung?” Namjoon says, sitting down across from Yoongi. His palms feel sweaty of the sudden so he sets his cup on a nearby coaster.
“Hm?” Yoongi mumbles. He doesn’t look up from his book, but maybe it’s better this way.
“Hyung,” Namjoon says again, filing his chest with a deep breath. “I love you.”
Slowly, two grooves form between Yoongi’s eyebrows. He lifts up his head and blinks at Namjoon.
Namjoon doesn’t want to think about what the puzzled look on Yoongi’s face could mean so he clears his throat and tells him, “I’m in love with you.”
For a second, nothing happens, and then Yoongi’s eyes crinkle at the corners. He cracks a gummy smile, but immediately raises a hand up to cover his face, dropping his gaze to the table. He shakes his head, like he’s in disbelief, and then a surprised laugh escapes from his mouth.
“What?” Namjoon wonders, not quite sure what to do with such a reaction. It’s not like he was expecting Yoongi to burst into tears, but he didn’t think Yoongi would start laughing either.
It must show on his face how perplexed he is, because Yoongi instantly reaches across the table and takes his hand. “It’s nothing,” Yoongi tells him, rubbing his thumb over Namjoon’s knuckles. “Sorry.” As his eyes follow the movement of his finger, the corners of his mouth droop. “Just… I thought you were going to say something last night at the exhibition, when you saw the sculpture. But then you didn’t and so I thought…”
“I almost did,” Namjoon admits, unable to listen to the pain in Yoongi’s voice. “I thought about telling you then. I wanted to say it, but… but it was your night. You were in the spotlight and I didn’t want to ruin the moment.”
“Joon-ah.” Yoongi chuckles softly and takes Namjoon’s other hand. “I literally made my final project about you. You wouldn’t have ruined anything by saying you love me.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Yoongi mocks, but it’s fond and he’s beaming from ear to ear. His hands are warm where they hold Namjoon’s.
From the way Yoongi speaks about it, it almost seems like he’s been -- not quite expecting but definitely hoping to hear Namjoon say those words for some time. He had sounded so wistful when he recalled how he thought that night at the exhibition would go.
And so Namjoon reveals another secret to him. “I wanted to tell you earlier,” he adds, “On our anniversary.” As he thinks back to that moment, heat rushes to his face. Maybe he should’ve brought up a less… lewd time. But he already started talking about it, so he might as well finish it. “... When we were in bed.”
Immediately, Yoongi throws his head back and lets out a loud, amused laugh. “Before you came or after?” he asks, smirking.
Namjoon just flushes harder.
“Just teasing you,” Yoongi says, sniggering. He squeezes Namjoon’s hands and smiles softly at him. After a moment of silence, he says, “Hey, Joon?”
Namjoon glances up at him, feeling like he’s seeing him for the first time all over again.
“I love you too.”
)( + )(
Whoever thought 8 am classes were a good idea should be shunned.
Whoever thought 8 am math classes were a good idea should be jailed immediately.
Everyone always talks about how classes in college are self-selected and how many are offered later in the day, so that students can create a schedule that works for them.
But no one ever mentions the fact that freshmen are registered last and therefore end up with the short end of the stick. Or in Namjoon’s case, an 8 am Calculus II class during his first semester in college.
In all reality, it hasn’t been that bad. Waking up early is a pain and the cafeteria is ungodly packed in the morning, but the actual 8 am class isn’t so bad itself. Namjoon took AP Calculus in high school and was able to get credits for Calculus I when he passed the exam, so he usually has a pretty good idea about what’s going on in class. It helps that the professor is pretty chill too -- even though he still mispronounces Namjoon’s name when he does a roll call, despite them already being two weeks into the semester.
But other than that, it’s fine.
Namjoon mostly keeps to himself, doesn’t really make eye contact with the other students in class. So when someone drops into the seat across from him and says, “Hey, do you wanna form a study group?” Namjoon thinks he’s being pranked.
He glances up from his notebook at his peer. It takes him a second to recognise who it is, Min Yoongi. The only reason Namjoon knows his name is because the professor stutters through the pronunciation every time and still butchers it, just like he does with Namjoon’s.
(It’s not because Namjoon has noticed that Yoongi has this cute waddle when he walks or that Yoongi has dressed in all black for each class -- which he finds is kind of hot.
Yeah, definitely not.)
“Um… ” Namjoon tries to remember what Yoongi asked him. Oh, yeah, study group. “I’m actually not that good.” Which is a huge lie. He got a 5 on his AP Calculus Exam, but he’s not going to tell this (cute) boy those details. Isn’t it always better to act a little clueless (in front of cute guys)?
“Oh, c’mon,” Yoongi groans, rolling his eyes. “I’ve seen you do some of the homework problems out on the board before. You know your shit.”
Namjoon ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. “Nah, seriously. I’m an English major. I don’t know much about this stuff.”
“Imagine how I feel,” Yoongi says, raising his eyebrows. “I’m majoring in architecture.”
“Dude.” Namjoon frowns, tilting his head to the side. “What the hell do you need Calc 2 for then?”
“Fuck if I know,” Yoongi mutters, huffing a breath. He slumps in his seat, pursing his lips and rolling his eyes again -- and no, Namjoon does not think that little pout is cute.
He looks over at the analog clock above the board and notices Yoongi doing the same out of the corner of his eye. One minute before class starts.
“So what do you think -- study group?” Yoongi asks, and there’s something so hopeful in his voice that makes Namjoon’s heart race.
Namjoon has no idea how study groups work and he has no idea if this’ll be a good idea, but fuck it. “Yeah,” he tells Yoongi, trying not to come off too eager. “Let’s do it.”
“Sick,” Yoongi mumbles, chuckling, lips stretched around a gummy smile -- and Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat.
Shit, he thinks, I might like you already.