Chapter Text
[Good afternoon Seoul, this is Park Jimin with your Kkul FM weather update. After this morning’s showers, the rest of the day is looking bright and clear city-wide, closing out the evening with light winds perfect for airing laundry, or a dramatic walk on the beach. Listen to my mother and wear a coat if you’re stepping out.]
Namjoon and Jimin had been friends since the day Jimin was born, and that wasn’t an exaggeration. The Park family next door had given birth to a bouncing baby boy exactly a year, a month, and a day after Namjoon was born, and their parents had carefully placed that newborn in Namjoon’s chubby arms and he had gazed down in wonder at such a small person, those sleepy eyes blinking up at him, his little rosebud mouth forming a milky pout. He was the cutest living thing in Namjoon’s whole world. And from that day on, they were best friends.
They had inherited their friendship from their parents, and some kids may have resented being pushed together, but their friendship was a cherished family heirloom as far as Namjoon was concerned. Jimin had once said Namjoon was the one he loved and trusted most in the world, so you could say the feeling was mutual.
Twenty five years later, Namjoon’s parents had come together to pick him up from Incheon airport, and he was feeling restless in the backseat as they inched through the late afternoon traffic, an unfamiliar weather report droning on the radio as it hit four o’clock. He should talk to his parents about their station preferences.
He hadn’t told Jimin he was coming home, and he was starting to think that was a stupid idea. He’d played it cool all week since he’d gotten the tickets. He didn’t necessarily need Jimin to know how he’d jumped at the chance when his parents had suggested paying for a trip home for an early birthday present, even if he could only get away from work for a few days.
It was serendipitous, the timing of it all. He’d been on the phone with Jimin only hours before his parents’ offer, feeling a little down as he realised just how long it had been since he stepped foot on Korean soil.
“It’s almost been a year, hyung,” Jimin had said as soon as their weekly video call connected.
Namjoon groaned, faceplanting into his pillow. He rolled back and forth in place on the bed in his narrow London flat, hearing Jimin try and fail to stifle a snort at his antics. “I knowww,” he said, frowning hard as he looked back up, bedhead even wilder than before. “I’m terrible. Can you ever forgive me?”
Jimin narrowed his eyes, but Namjoon could see the telltale sparkle even from 9,000 km away. “Hmph. I’ll think about it,” he said. “But you need to visit soon. I miss you.”
Those three words hit Namjoon right in the chest, a bruise immediately starting to form. Jimin had never said he missed him before. In all the months Namjoon had been away, Jimin had carefully not said those words, even as he said every word on their periphery.
“You missed last Chuseok, so you’re coming this year, right? It’s the week before my birthday,” Jimin continued quickly.
Namjoon closed his eyes, shoulders slumping. He didn’t need to see to feel the weight of Jimin’s puppy eyes. He wielded them like a deadly weapon. He sighed, looking up. “I’ll try.”
Jimin had smiled, but neither of them had really expected Namjoon would pull an international flight out of his ass. He would still miss Chuseok, but at least he was finally showing his face in his home city.
After finishing his literature degree in Seoul, he hadn’t found steady work as easily as he’d expected, and after doing odd translation jobs for a few months, he’d been offered a coveted interpreting role in London. Booking a one-way flight to live alone in a foreign country for the first time had been daunting, but the experience had added a lot of value to his resume, at the very least.
“I assume you’re staying at Jimin’s tonight?” his mother asked once they were settled around the kitchen table.
“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Namjoon replied, accepting a mug.
“You might want to check with him first, in case he has plans with his boyfriend. The bed’s made up in your old room if you need it.”
Namjoon short-circuited, scalding his tongue as he spluttered, swallowing too much green tea. He swore, wiping his mouth. “What? What boyfriend? Jimin doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
“How would you know?” she said. “You’ve been overseas.”
“No, Jimin would tell me if he was dating someone. He’s still single.”
She shrugged. “Pretty men like Jimin don’t stay single for long.”
He sat with those words circling in his head for several minutes as his mother pottered around the kitchen, packaging up banchan.
“Eomma,” he protested when she handed him a picnic basket, but she immediately shushed him. It was heavy, laden with neatly labeled and dated side dishes, and two kimbap rolls, wrapped in foil. “I don’t even know if he needs any of this. You know his mother sends him home with a bunch of dishes every time he visits.”
“Well, you can just bring them back if he doesn’t,” she said tersely. “It’s not far.”
He checked his watch for what must have been the fourth time in the hour he’d been there, and his mother tsked.
“Just go over now, if you’re going to be like this.”
“He’ll still be at work.”
His mother shook her head. “I don’t know how you survived a year without our Jimin beside you. You’ve gone fewer days not seeing Jimin than you have your own mother and father. You’ve been inseparable since you were kids.”
“And who facilitated that?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.
“It’s not a bad thing,” she insisted. “Just that it must have been tough, for both of you.”
Namjoon was quiet. The first few weeks had been the hardest. Namjoon had tried not to bother Jimin, who had been busy making a name for himself at his new job, but the floodgates had opened as soon as Jimin reached out. He yapped to Jimin about anything and everything in his new home, all the differences between London and Seoul, and the surprising similarities, his work, and the few friends he’d made. They’d set up weekly Friday catch ups not long after, finding a good spot between their timezones, Friday mornings for Namjoon, and Friday evenings for Jimin, not long after he got home from work. Life was more bearable with a regular Jimin-fix.
His father came in the backdoor, brandishing a bundle of sunflowers from the garden. “I got your bike out of the shed. Take these for Jimin as well.”
“Appa, isn’t that a bit too much?”
He stopped, looked up from tucking them into the picnic basket with a frown. “Why? Jimin likes these flowers, and they’re the last ones leftover from the summer.”
“I know,” Namjoon protested weakly. “But they’ll make it look like a date…”
His father shrugged, not bothered in the slightest, glancing at his wife with a sneaky expression he thought Namjoon couldn’t see. Namjoon just sighed and waved him away from the basket, giving in out of exhaustion or filial duty, or some mixture of the two. “I’ll head over now.”
He felt like an idiot cycling over with a picnic and flowers sticking out from the basket of his bike, his overnight bag perched on the back, but at least it was only a few streets over. Until a few years ago, Jimin had lived next door with his family, until Jimin’s parents retired and moved to Busan, where the rest of the family still lived. Jimin now rented a small rooftop studio in the same neighbourhood, the elderly owner treating him like a beloved grandson.
Namjoon dipped his head to grandmother Choi as he passed the ground floor window, leaning his bike against the fence as he gathered his things. It was almost six, and Jimin was already home, his car parked on the street below. He snuck up the concrete stairs at the side of the building, checking the coast was clear before he set the basket and his bag down on the pyeongsang platform a short way from the apartment.
Cautiously, he moved closer, peering around the edge of the window until he found him. Jimin was facing away, oblivious that his best friend was only a few steps away as he pouted at his reflection in the mirror, running his fingers through his hair until it fell the way he wanted it to. He looked like he was fresh from the shower, wearing yellow shorts and an oversized cream knit jumper, still tan from summer. Sunset was another hour away, and the sun shone through the window, lighting up his hair like pale gold. He was even more beautiful than he’d been a year ago. Namjoon saw Jimin online every week, but no video could compare to Park Jimin in the flesh.
He watched for a moment longer as Jimin settled on the couch with a drink, shaking himself out of his trance as he stepped back. Jimin always called right on time. He sat down on the stairs, checking himself with his phone camera. Only the concrete wall and a patch of sky was visible behind him. He laughed as the time clicked over to 6pm and his phone began to vibrate.
“Hi Jimin-ah,” Namjoon said with a smile as he answered the call.
Jimin smiled back, his pretty eyes wandering as he took in Namjoon’s surroundings. “Good morning hyung! You’re up already. Are you on a business trip?”
“Nope, just enjoying the good weather,” he said, looking up with a smile. “It’s getting a bit chilly though, I should probably go inside. Just a minute.”
Namjoon got up, keeping just his face in frame. He muted himself briefly as he approached the door and knocked three times. Jimin looked to the side with a small frown.
“Oh, someone’s at the door.”
“Did you order something?”
“I don’t think so… Just a second,” Jimin trailed off as he moved off screen, his footsteps drawing closer on the other side of the door.
“Hyung?!”
The first thing Namjoon saw as the door opened were Jimin’s wide eyes, his yell muffled against Namjoon’s shoulder as he jumped into his arms, wrapping around him koala-style. Namjoon nearly dropped his phone trying to catch him, stumbling back a step with a laugh as Jimin buried his face in his neck. He only just managed to keep his balance, wrapping his arms around Jimin to hug him back. They swayed in the doorway for a long moment, eyes closed as they soaked in each other’s warmth, and an errant part of Namjoon settled back into place as he breathed in the subtle floral scent of his shampoo. A year without Jimin was far too long.
Jimin’s grip eventually lessened and Namjoon reluctantly let go, leaning down until his feet could touch the ground.
“Is it okay if we hang out in person this week?” Namjoon asked redundantly, and Jimin just hit him in the chest, dragging him inside with a laugh.
“You kept this quiet. What are you doing here?” he asked, barely giving Namjoon a chance to explain. “Oh! You’re going to miss your birthday delivery,” he pouted.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back in London before then.”
“Oh.” He was quiet for a moment before he perked up suddenly, clapping his hands. “That’s it!” Jimin announced. “I’m calling out of work for a few days. I’m not missing out on seeing my best friend just because I have to work for a living.”
“Is that going to be okay? I should have let you know,” Namjoon winced.
Jimin laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, they won’t fire me,” he scoffed. “They’d lose half their listeners.” He poked his tongue out between his teeth, making Namjoon laugh. It was good to see him so confident.
“Oh, by the way, my parents sent me with a few week’s worth of food.”
“Ooh, nice, I’m out of everything so that’s perfect,” Jimin said, following Namjoon outside to get the bags. He poked through the containers, humming appreciatively. He pulled out the sunflowers, flashing Namjoon a smile.
“The last bunch from Dad’s garden. Apparently it was important you have them,” Namjoon shook his head. “I think my parents like you more than me.”
“Yeah,” Jimin agreed like it was obvious. “I visit more.”
“Okay. Rude.”
“But fair?” Jimin laughed.
Namjoon rolled his eyes, waving Jimin ahead as they took the food inside. “Is it okay if I stay over?”
“What?” Jimin laughed, glancing back as he restocked the fridge. “Of course it is, you don’t need to ask.”
Namjoon shrugged. “I just don’t want to get in the way if you have plans.”
“You’d never be in the way, Joonie.”
“You don’t have a date or anything?”
Jimin stood back up, eyebrows raised. “Not that I’m aware of,” he snorted. “Do you know something I don’t?”
He really needed to stop letting his parents influence him. “My parents said you had a boyfriend.”
“Oh!” Jimin said. “They mean Hoseokie-hyung from work. He’s your age.”
He leaned back, hands gripping the counter as nonchalantly as possible. “So…”
“So what?”
Namjoon was about to go insane. “You’re dating this Hoseok guy?”
“Oh no, Yoongi-hyung would kill me.”
“Oh,” Namjoon said, letting out a small, relieved laugh. “Right.”
“I’d introduce you guys if you were visiting longer, I think you’d get along,” Jimin said. “Maybe next time.”
“Yeah,” Namjoon agreed faintly. “Next time.”
He watched idly as Jimin trimmed the sunflowers, humming to himself as he arranged them in an old kimchi jar. Something about the idea of this just being a visit rubbed him the wrong way. He’d been away a year, and it was only a short trip, but this was still his home. To Namjoon, Jimin and home had always been synonymous, and he couldn’t bear the thought of becoming just a passing visitor.
“Do you want to drink, hyung? I’ve got soju to have with the kimbap, and the weather is perfect to eat outside.”
Namjoon shook the fog from his head, mustering a quick smile. “Sure, sounds good.”
The rooftop studio was small, one combined bedroom, kitchen, and living area with a separate bathroom added on top of an existing house, but it was big enough for Jimin, and he’d decorated to make the most of the space, separating his sleeping area with a folding partition screen, and making it appear larger with light colours, creative storage, and only a few larger pieces of furniture. The living area had a couch and low table that doubled as Jimin’s work desk, and he’d installed a projector screen on the wall so he didn’t have to waste space with a TV. It was light and airy, with fairy lights draped along the windows, and a small collection of plants scattered around the studio and along the rooftop creating indoor-outdoor flow. If he looked closely, there were hints of their friendship scattered around the small space. A few polaroids on the fridge, a framed cyanotype of Jimin’s birth flower that Namjoon had given him as a birthday present, Namjoon’s prized baby plum bonsai that he hadn’t been able to take overseas. He liked to think they shared custody.
It was a calming space and felt very Jimin. Namjoon had spent many afternoons napping at Jimin’s place during their first few years at university, coming over under the pretense of studying together, often just an excuse to steal more time together.
They didn’t need an excuse this time, setting up their small picnic on the pyeongsang as they stretched their legs out, watching the sun dissolve into molten gold as it met the horizon, throwing the cityscape into silhouette as stars blinked to life one by one until the city lights took over, the waxing moon just a few days from full. It was the clear autumn night Jimin had forecast, his small patch of suburbia as quiet as the city got, their companionable silence shared with the sound of distant traffic, the clink of glass and sloshing soju as they made an unspoken toast, the telltale crinkle of foil as they made their way through the kimbap piece by piece. Stomachs full, they talked like they did every Friday, but it was so much freer than usual, with no job for Namjoon to rush off to, and the creeping exhaustion of Jimin’s work day erased by the happy thrill of Namjoon being there with him after so long.
When their words were spent, they shifted to music, trading their recent favourite tracks the way they’d bonded since middle school. It would take longer to catch up on everything, but they’d made a good start, sharing all the little things that slipped through the cracks made by long-distance. They dragged themselves inside once the soju had run dry, barely standing long enough to wash up before they fell into bed, the long day and jetlag finally catching up with them. On the edge of oblivion, a small hand slipped into Namjoon’s, and he smiled as sleep dragged him down.
It was the perfect night.
