Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The dorm was far from luxurious. The walls were thin, the floor creaked, and the air conditioning barely kept up with the summer heat. But for seven boys chasing a dream, it was home.

Jin stood by the small kitchen counter, pouring water into a glass. The chatter from the shared living room echoed through the cramped space. Yoongi was hunched over his laptop, headphones in, and Taehyung was already sprawled out on the couch, half-asleep. Jungkook, who still carried the air of a wide-eyed teenager, was rifling through the snack cabinet, munching on chips.

But Jin’s eyes searched for someone else.

Namjoon.

He found him cross-legged on the floor, a notebook balanced on his knees. The younger’s brows furrowed as he scribbled away, biting his lip in concentration. It wasn’t unusual—Namjoon was always writing, always lost in thought. But lately, Jin noticed more. The way Namjoon’s eyes lingered when they talked, how his laughter softened when Jin teased him, and the warmth that spread across Jin’s chest every time they stood side by side.

“Hyung!!!”

Namjoon’s voice broke through Jin’s thoughts. He looked up, startled.

“Come here for a sec.” Namjoon patted the floor beside him, motioning toward the notebook. “Tell me if this sounds alright.”

Jin hesitated. It was a simple request, but there was something about the way Namjoon’s eyes held his that made his heart race. He sat down, knees brushing against Namjoon’s.

“You know I’m not a lyricist, right?” Jin joked, trying to lighten the sudden tension.

Namjoon grinned. “Maybe not, but you’re honest.”

Jin took the notebook, scanning the rough verses. The words were raw—hopeful yet uncertain. They mirrored the struggles they all faced, the relentless practice hours, and the fear of failing before they even began.

“It’s good,” Jin said softly. “Really good.”

Namjoon’s grin widened, dimples deepening. “Thanks, hyung.”

A beat passed. Neither moved. The air between them shifted, thick with something unspoken. Jin felt it — the warmth of Namjoon’s knee still against his, the slight tremble in his own fingers as he returned the notebook.

But before either could say anything more, Hoseok burst into the room, his voice cutting through the tension.

“Dance practice in ten minutes! Get your butts moving!”

Namjoon shot Jin a sheepish smile as he stood, stretching his long limbs. “Saved by the bell.”

Jin laughed, though his heart still pounded. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

But even as they returned to their tasks, the warmth of Namjoon’s knee against his lingered. And that night, when Jin lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling above, he couldn’t shake the thought that something had shifted.

Something he wasn’t ready to name.

Chapter Text

The practice room was alive with the echoes of music and the rhythmic stomp of sneakers against the polished floor. Sweat clung to every surface, and the sharp scent of effort hung in the air. Seven trainees moved in synchronized chaos, their limbs following the music as best as their exhausted bodies allowed.

Namjoon stood near the corner, the leader role already forming itself around him, though the weight of it still felt unfamiliar. Across the room, Jin was adjusting his movements, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Dance had never been his strongest suit, but the determination in his gaze made up for it.

"Hyung, try stepping with your right foot first," Namjoon called, lowering the volume of the speaker.

Jin paused, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his black T-shirt. "You mean like this?"

"Exactly." Namjoon nodded, suppressing a grin. "You're getting better. Soon you'll be scolding us."

Jin rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth betrayed a smile. "I'll leave the scolding to Yoongi."

The memory of Yoongi's stern glare during practice made them both chuckle. But it was moments like these — the small exchanges, the laughter that lingered even as the pressure mounted — that carved their friendship into something unshakable.

---

Later that evening, the dorm’s cramped kitchen was filled with the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional drip of the faucet. Namjoon hovered indecisively, staring at the instant ramen packets as though they might reveal the answers to life’s questions.

"Thinking too hard about noodles?" Jin’s voice startled him.

Namjoon smirked. "Just debating if two packs are too much."

Jin clapped a hand on his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Only two? You’ll starve."

Their laughter echoed through the kitchen as Jin set the pot to boil. Despite the exhaustion pulling at them, the comfort of these shared moments outweighed the day’s weariness.

"Hyung, you always make it seem like everything's fine," Namjoon said, stirring the noodles absentmindedly.

Jin tilted his head. "Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?"

"But it’s not easy," Namjoon pressed. "Dancing, singing, living in this tiny dorm with six other guys. Don’t you ever get tired?"

Jin’s smile softened, his eyes distant. "Ofcourse. But I think… knowing I have you guys makes it easier."

Namjoon opened his mouth to respond, but the noodles boiled over, interrupting the moment. Jin laughed, rushing to turn off the stove while Namjoon flailed to clean up the mess. In the end, they ate together on the floor, legs crossed, bowls steaming in their hands.

---

The next day, filming for a behind-the-scenes segment brought fresh waves of laughter.

"Describe Namjoon in one word," the producer prompted.

Jin tapped his chin theatrically. "Genius. But clumsy."

Namjoon gave a mock gasp, clutching his chest. "Hyung! You wound me."

"Honest words." Jin shrugged, but the fondness in his gaze betrayed the teasing. "But you're our genius leader. No one else could do it like you."

Namjoon’s ears burned at the compliment. Praise always made him squirm, but when it came from Jin, it somehow settled warmly in his chest.

"You’re not so bad yourself, Worldwide Handsome."

Jin dramatically flicked his hair. "I know."

The crew laughed, and the weight of the day lifted. Yet even after the cameras were turned off, the warmth of Jin’s words lingered.

---

That night, after another grueling practice, Jin collapsed onto his bed with a dramatic sigh. The dorm room was dim, the only light coming from Namjoon’s laptop screen. His fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard, words spilling into lyrics as thoughts raced through his mind.

“What are you writing this time?” Jin’s voice was soft, muffled by the pillow.

Namjoon didn’t look up. “Just some lyrics. Trying to make sense of things.”

Jin turned toward him, propping his chin on his palm. “What kind of things?”

Namjoon’s hands stilled. After a moment, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Us. Our journey. How it feels to chase this dream when the world doesn’t know your name yet.”

Jin nodded thoughtfully. “And how does it feel?”

Namjoon finally met his gaze. “Like standing at the edge of something huge. Terrifying, but also… kind of exciting.”

“You always find a way to put things into words.”

Namjoon chuckled softly. “That’s my job, hyung.”

Jin watched him for a while, the tapping of keys once again filling the room. Then, without warning, he tossed a pillow at Namjoon’s head.

“What the—”

“You think too much.” Jin grinned, his laughter bubbling through the air. “Sometimes, you should just let things happen.”

Namjoon snorted, grabbing the pillow and chucking it back. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re always so carefree.”

Jin’s smile faltered, only for a moment. “Not always.”

Namjoon caught the flicker of something deeper in Jin’s eyes, but before he could respond, Jin yawned dramatically. “Sleep, leader-nim. We’ve got another long day tomorrow.”

Namjoon closed his laptop, the room sinking into silence.

But Jin’s words stayed with him.

Sometimes, you should just let things happen.

That night, as the dorm lights dimmed, Namjoon’s thoughts lingered. The way Jin had cheered him on during practice, the warmth in his words — it all stayed with him. The realization crept in quietly, like a soft breeze.

He cared. He really cared.

And maybe, just maybe, it was something more.

Chapter Text

Days in the dorm had settled into a routine — practice, recording, laughter that echoed through the small rooms, and the occasional late-night convenience store runs. But for Namjoon, there was something about Jin that disrupted the usual rhythm.

It wasn’t just the way Jin laughed, the way he filled the space with his presence. It was the subtle things — the soft hums when he cooked, the way he patted Namjoon’s back when he was stressed, or how his gaze lingered just a second longer than it needed to.

The first time Namjoon noticed it, they were at the kitchen table, Jin rambling about some variety show he wanted to try. Namjoon nodded along, but his eyes caught the curve of Jin’s smile — the way it tugged at the corner of his lips like it belonged there.

“Hyung,” Namjoon blurted out before he could stop himself.

Jin blinked. “Yeah?”

Namjoon scrambled for something to say, heat creeping up his neck. “Uh… I mean… you should definitely try that show. You’d be great at it.”

Jin’s laugh was light, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Of course I would. Visuals like mine deserve the spotlight.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t fight the grin tugging at his lips.

---

The next “first” happened a week later.

After hours of practice, the members had collapsed in a heap in the dorm’s living room. Hoseok was sprawled on the floor, Jungkook was half-asleep with Taehyung’s head on his shoulder, and Yoongi had disappeared into his room.

Jin, though, had claimed his usual spot on the couch — right next to Namjoon. It wasn’t unusual, but the weight of Jin’s shoulder resting against his felt heavier than it should.

“You know,” Jin mused, staring at the flickering TV screen, “I think we’re actually doing well.”

Namjoon tilted his head. “What makes you say that?”

Jin’s smile softened. “Just a feeling. I mean, we’re exhausted, but we’re happy. That’s gotta mean something.”

Namjoon didn’t respond right away. Instead, he let the warmth of Jin’s words settle over him. The moment lingered, comfortable and unspoken.

And when Jin’s head eventually dropped onto his shoulder, Namjoon didn’t move.

He didn’t want to.

---

The final first — the one Namjoon thought about far too often — came during one of their rare days off.

“Hyung,” Namjoon had asked hesitantly, “Want to go out for dinner? My treat.”

Jin’s eyes lit up. “Oh? A date?”

Namjoon’s heart skipped, but he forced a laugh. “Not a date. Just… going out and eat together, but if you have other plans...”

Jin grinned. “You’re really trying to woo me, aren’t you?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his chest was undeniable.

They ended up in a small restaurant tucked away from the bustling streets. Jin eagerly ordered half the menu, and Namjoon didn’t complain.

Between bites of tteokbokki, Jin’s laughter filled the air. And when Namjoon reached for the bill, ignoring Jin’s protests, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Hyung,” Namjoon said softly, “I asked you out. It’s only right if I pay.”

Jin blinked, then burst into laughter. “Fine. But next time, it’s on me.”

Namjoon didn’t think about the fact that Jin had said “next time.” He just smiled, savoring the moment.

And maybe — just maybe — he didn’t mind the idea of more firsts with Jin.

Chapter Text

The days after their dinner outing slipped by, but the warmth of it lingered. Namjoon thought about the way Jin’s laughter had echoed through the restaurant, how effortlessly the world had seemed to quiet in his presence. It wasn’t anything grand. No fanfare, no dramatic moments. But it was something.

And Namjoon was beginning to think that something might mean more than he had ever allowed himself to believe.

---

“Hyung, hold still.”

Namjoon’s voice was tinged with laughter as he tried — and failed — to hold the camera steady. Jin was standing beneath the soft glow of a street lamp, dramatically adjusting his hair as if they were filming a commercial.

“This lighting is perfect for my Worldwide Handsome visuals,” Jin declared, striking a pose. “Make sure you capture all my best angles.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, the grin never leaving his face. He snapped a few pictures, each one more ridiculous than the last. Yet, even with Jin’s exaggerated expressions, Namjoon couldn’t deny how effortlessly beautiful he looked.

“Let me see.” Jin stepped forward, peering over Namjoon’s shoulder. Their arms brushed, the warmth of Jin’s presence sending a ripple of awareness through Namjoon.

Jin laughed, his voice soft and rich. “Okay, I approve. This one could be framed.”

“Hyung, it’s just you pretending to model next to a convenience store.”

“And?” Jin smirked. “Art comes in many forms, Joonie.”

Joonie

The nickname had slipped from Jin so naturally, but it curled around Namjoon’s heart like a soft embrace. He didn’t protest. Instead, he just stood there, smiling like a fool.

“Let’s grab some snacks.” Jin pulled him toward the entrance, and Namjoon followed without question.

Because wherever Jin went, Namjoon found himself wanting to follow.

---

Later, they were sprawled across the dorm’s small living room couch. The others had retreated to their rooms, but Jin had lingered.

Namjoon was half-heartedly reading lyrics on his phone, though the words blurred together the longer he sat there. Every so often, his gaze flickered toward Jin, who was absently scrolling through his own phone. His hair was still damp from the shower, strands falling messily over his forehead.

“Hyung,” Namjoon finally said, his voice low.

Jin hummed in acknowledgment, not looking up.

“Do you ever think about… where we’d be if we weren’t here?”

Jin’s fingers paused over the screen. “Like, if we hadn’t become BTS?”

Namjoon nodded.

Jin set his phone aside, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes. But I don’t think I’d like that version of my life very much.”

Namjoon’s chest tightened. “Why?”

Jin met his gaze, his eyes soft and unwavering. “Because I wouldn’t have met you.”

The words hung there, suspended in the stillness of the room. Namjoon swallowed, the weight of Jin’s sincerity settling deep. He wanted to say something — to return the sentiment, to tell Jin how much those words meant. But the lump in his throat refused to budge.

“Me too.”

It was all he could manage. But the way Jin’s lips curved, as if he understood every unspoken thought, told Namjoon it was enough.

Neither of them moved for a while. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was simply them.

---

The next morning, Namjoon woken up to the muffled sound of laughter. He blinked against the sunlight streaming through the curtains, his heart stuttering when he realized Jin was sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Hyung?” Namjoon’s voice was thick with sleep.

“You snore, you know,” Jin teased, grinning. “Like a bear.”

Namjoon groaned, dragging the blanket over his head. “Hyung, it’s too early for this.”

“It’s almost noon.” Jin tugged at the blanket, his laughter filling the room. “Come on, I made pancakes.”

Namjoon peeked out from under the covers. “You cooked?!"

Jin gasped in mock offense. “Worldwide Handsome and a culinary genius. Honestly, what can’t I do?”

Namjoon’s heart swelled. He didn’t have an answer to that.

---

Breakfast was a chaotic affair. Jin had, in fact, made pancakes — golden and fluffy, perfectly stacked, with fresh fruit on the side.

“You’re too good at this,” Namjoon muttered between bites. “It’s not fair.”

Jin beamed. “I accept your praise.”

Namjoon watched as Jin happily munched on his own pancake, savoring every bite. The table was a mess of syrup and crumbs, but neither of them cared. It felt like a stolen morning — one that belonged only to them.

He found himself thinking about how natural it was to wake up to Jin’s laughter, how comforting it was to share a meal with him.

"I could get used to this", he thought to himself. 

---

Later that day, the group held a live broadcast, answering fan questions. Amidst the playful banter, a fan asked, "Who's the best cook in the group?"

Namjoon didn’t hesitate. "Hyung's cooking is the best. He takes care of all of us."

Jin’s cheeks tinged pink. "I just don’t want us to starve," he replied, trying to downplay the compliment.

Namjoon leaned closer to the camera, grinning. "He even makes sure I don’t destroy the kitchen when I try to cook."

The members laughed, and Jin swatted Namjoon's arm playfully. "That’s because you once tried to microwave metal, Namjoon-ah."

Namjoon feigned offense. "It was one time!"

But the fond smile Jin sent his way didn’t fade.

---

That night, Namjoon sat on his bed, surrounded by crumpled sheets of paper. Lyrics eluded him, the right words just out of reach. Frustration gnawed at him, and he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Jin peeked into the room, concern etched on his face. "Can't sleep?"

Namjoon sighed. "The lyrics aren't coming together. I feel stuck."

Jin entered, closing the door behind him. He sat beside Namjoon, glancing at the scattered papers. "Want to talk about it?"

Namjoon hesitated, then nodded. "I'm trying to capture our journey — the struggles and the triumphs — but everything I write feels... inadequate."

Jin listened intently, his presence a calming balm. "Remember when we first debuted? How uncertain everything was?"

Namjoon nodded. "Yeah, we were just kids with big dreams."

"And look at us now," Jin continued. "We've come so far because we faced those challenges together. Maybe instead of focusing on the end result, write about the journey — the small moments that define us."

Namjoon stared at Jin, the weight of his words sinking in. "You're right, hyung. It's the little things that matter."

Jin smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. “And no matter what, we’ll face everything together.”

In that moment, surrounded by discarded lyrics and the quiet hum of the night, Namjoon felt a surge of gratitude for the man beside him.

The thought lingered as he lay in bed later, eyes tracing the shadows on the ceiling. He cared. He really cared.

And maybe — just maybe — it was something more. And maybe, just maybe, that “something” he felt wasn’t so small after all.

Chapter Text

The dorm was unusually quiet that night, the only sounds being the occasional hum of the refrigerator and the distant hum of traffic. Most of the members had gone to bed, but sleep had evaded Namjoon. He lay on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through his phone, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

Jin.

The name alone stirred something within him, a warmth he had grown accustomed to. The way Jin's laughter echoed in his mind, how his eyes crinkled when he smiled—every memory made Namjoon’s chest tighten in the most confusing yet exhilarating way.

A knock at the door pulled him from his reverie. He sat up, a little startled, but his heart skipped when Jin's familiar voice came through the door.

"Joon-ah, you awake?"

Namjoon opened the door to find Jin standing there, hair tousled, dressed in loose sweats and an oversized hoodie. The older man smiled, holding up two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

“Couldn’t sleep either,” Jin said with a shrug. “Thought you could use some company.”

Namjoon stepped aside, welcoming him in. They settled on the bed, knees touching slightly as they sipped their drinks. The chocolatey warmth spread through Namjoon, but the real comfort came from Jin’s presence.

“You’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Jin said softly, his gaze searching Namjoon’s face.

Namjoon hesitated. How could he possibly put into words the growing storm of feelings? But with Jin, honesty felt easier.

“I’ve just… been thinking about us. About how everything changed when we became BTS.” He swallowed. “And how I don’t think I would have made it without you.”

Jin’s eyes softened. “You’re stronger than you think, Joonie. But I’m glad I could be there for you.”

Namjoon held his gaze. “You always are.”

The air grew heavier, but not in an uncomfortable way. Jin's fingers toyed absentmindedly with the edge of the blanket, his lips slightly parted as if searching for the right words.

“And you?” Namjoon asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Jin nodded slowly. “Sometimes. But then I think about all the little moments. Like our first performance, the time we stayed up all night talking about our dreams… the way you always listen when I ramble about cooking.”

Namjoon chuckled softly. “I like listening to you.”

Jin’s gaze lingered on him, unreadable. “And I like being with you.”

There it was. The words that made Namjoon’s heart pound. He wanted to say something, to close the distance between them, but instead, they sat in the stillness, a thousand unspoken confessions filling the air.

Jin shifted closer, resting his head on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“This,” he murmured, “is enough for now.”

Namjoon’s hand found Jin’s, their fingers intertwining naturally. And for the first time in a while, he didn’t feel the need to search for words.

Some things were better left unspoken—for now. 

Chapter Text

A few days later, at night, Namjoon was staring at his laptop, the glow of the screen illuminating his tired face. He had been writing for hours, the lines of lyrics dancing before his eyes. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept circling back to Jin. The way his laughter echoed through the dorm, the curve of his smile — it was all-consuming. With a sigh, Namjoon closed his laptop and rubbed his eyes. Sleep wasn’t coming.

He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. Before he could think twice, he sent a simple text.

Namjoon: You up?

Minutes passed. Just as he considered putting his phone down, the screen lit up.

Jin: Yeah. Can’t sleep.

Namjoon smiled to himself.

Namjoon: Me too. Ramen? 

Jin: Meet you in 10.

Namjoon was already grabbing his jacket.

---

The convenience store was quiet at this hour. Namjoon leaned against the shelf, scanning the rows of instant noodles. Jin strolled in moments later, hair tousled from sleep but eyes gleaming with amusement.

"We really should stop eating ramen at this hour," Jin remarked, feigning seriousness.

Namjoon grinned. "Yeah. Maybe we should try eating at a reasonable hour for once."

"But we both know we won’t," Jin quipped, plucking two cups of ramen from the shelf.

"Absolutely not," Namjoon laughed, grabbing a couple more.

They are waiting for the noodles to cook. The soft hum of the kettle filled the room. 

"I’m glad you messaged," Jin said softly, breaking the silence. His gaze lingered on Namjoon, warmth pooling in his eyes.

Namjoon’s heart fluttered. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jin nodded. "I mean, who else would join me for midnight ramen runs?"

Namjoon chuckled. "Only for you, hyung. Always you."

Jin’s smile widened, the fondness in his eyes unmistakable. And as they dug into their noodles, laughter echoing through the room, Namjoon realized that these moments — these quiet, stolen hours — were the ones he cherished most. 

---

The warmth from the ramen lingered longer than expected, settling into Namjoon’s chest more than his stomach. Jin’s laugh still echoed in his ears, and even as they climbed the dorm stairs after their late-night run, something felt different. Softer. Closer.

“You’re walking slow,” Jin said, glancing over his shoulder.

Namjoon offered a crooked smile. “Maybe I don’t want the night to end.”

Jin blinked at that, something flickering in his gaze. But he didn’t comment. Instead, he paused at Namjoon’s door, leaned lightly against the frame. “Thanks for tonight.”

Namjoon hesitated. “Stay?”

Jin raised a brow.

“Just… until I fall asleep,” Namjoon mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “You don’t have to—”

Jin was already stepping in.

---

They sat on the bed, side by side, backs against the headboard. Silence fell, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Their arms brushed now and then, and neither pulled away.

Namjoon shifted slightly, his voice low. “You ever think about… the what-ifs?”

Jin turned to him, expression unreadable. “What-ifs?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon said, glancing at his lap. “Like… what if we met in another life? Or if things were different. Simpler.”

Jin was quiet for a beat. “I don’t think I’d want another life,” he said finally. “I think I’d just want… more of this one.”

Namjoon’s heart stuttered.

Jin added, softly, “Especially the parts with you in them.”

The air between them shifted, thick with everything unsaid. Jin’s fingers lightly brushed Namjoon’s, and this time, he held on.

The space between their heartbeats closed just a little more.

Chapter Text

The studio lights dimmed one by one, a slow wink out of brightness that matched the quiet fatigue settling into each of the members. Filming for the latest Run BTS! episode had dragged on longer than expected — a full-day shoot filled with games, rivalries, and playful chaos. Jin had expected the usual: laughter, mischief, and the familiar ache in his cheeks from smiling too much. He hadn’t expected to feel…this.

Throughout the episode, he'd been teamed with Yoongi, Hoseok and Taehyung while Namjoon had paired off with Jimin and Jungkook. At first, it was fun. Jin hammed it up for the camera like always, throwing dramatic reactions and teasing Taehyung with exaggerated flair. But as the games dragged on and Namjoon’s laughter echoed — not at Jin’s jokes, but someone else’s — the humor began to lose its flavor.

It wasn’t the first time they’d been on different teams, but something about this episode rubbed Jin wrong. Especially the moment during the guessing game — Jin swore he got the answer right, but the members brushed it off, laughing. Namjoon didn’t speak up. He just stood there, eyes flitting briefly to Jin before joining the chorus of amused disbelief.

Jin had forced a laugh then. Forced a smile. But it sat on his face like a poorly placed sticker — visible, but not quite sticking.

He shouldn’t have cared. It was just a game. Just filming. But deep down, a quiet ache bloomed. He'd always been the one to joke the loudest, to lift the group’s mood. When had that turned into being the one brushed off?

And Namjoon—he was always the one to notice. To offer a look, a word, a small hand-squeeze under the table. Today, Namjoon hadn’t looked his way unless the camera demanded it.

Now, back at the dorm, the lights were low and the quiet hum of a late night settled between them all. Most of the members had retired to their rooms. Jin lingered in the kitchen, aimlessly opening cabinets he didn’t need and pretending to look for tea. He wasn’t ready to face the quiet of his room — or his thoughts.

Namjoon entered, the sound of his footsteps careful, light. He stopped just inside the doorway, watching Jin’s back. “You okay, hyung?”

Jin didn’t turn. “Yeah. Just... thirsty.”

Namjoon hesitated. “You were quiet after filming.”

Jin let out a short laugh, but it was hollow. “I guess I didn’t have anything interesting to say today.”

There it was — that tiny crack in his voice that betrayed more than he meant to. Namjoon stepped forward, slow and cautious, like approaching a wounded animal.

“They should’ve listened to you, during that round,” he said, voice low. “You were right.”

Jin finally turned, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You think?”

“I know.” Namjoon’s gaze searched his, quietly desperate. “I should’ve said something. I just—”

“You didn’t have to,” Jin cut in, his tone sharper than he meant. He sighed. “Sorry. I’m just... tired.”

Namjoon nodded slowly, but his eyes didn’t leave Jin. “I miss when we were always on the same team.”

It was a simple statement. A memory wrapped in longing. Jin’s fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.

“Me too,” he admitted, softer now.

They stood in silence for a moment, the quiet humming like static. There was a time when silence between them felt like comfort. Now it buzzed with tension, electric and uncertain.

“I saw you laughing with Jimin a lot today,” Jin said, casual — too casual.

Namjoon blinked. “Yeah?”

“You two looked like you were having fun.”

Namjoon tilted his head. “Are you... jealous?”

Jin scoffed, a sound that was more defense than humor. “Why would I be?”

Namjoon stepped closer again. There was barely a breath between them now. “I don’t know. But I wish you were.”

Jin’s eyes flicked up to meet his, startled. “What?”

Namjoon’s gaze was steady, but behind it swirled something raw. “I mean... if you were, it’d mean maybe you feel it too.”

“Feel what?”

Namjoon’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. “This. Whatever this is. The thing that makes me look for you even when you’re not on my team. The thing that hurts when I see you laugh at someone else’s joke.”

Jin’s heart stuttered.

“I miss you when we’re not teamed up,” Namjoon continued. “I miss our jokes, our rhythm. I miss the way you look at me like you know what I’m thinking before I say it.”

Jin swallowed. “You think I’m jealous. But it’s not just that. It’s... I felt invisible today.”

Namjoon’s face twisted, guilt painting itself into every line. “I’m sorry. I never want you to feel that way.”

There was another pause. Then Jin asked, barely above a whisper, “Why didn’t you defend me?”

Namjoon’s answer was immediate and honest. “Because if I had... I would’ve said too much.”

And suddenly, Jin understood. Because he would’ve done the same. Stayed quiet to protect something fragile and undefined.

“I didn’t realize,” Jin murmured. “You feel it too.”

Namjoon stepped even closer, and Jin didn’t move away.

“I’ve been feeling it for a long time,” he said.

Their hands didn’t touch. No confessions spilled. But the air between them changed — thickened with truth, with almosts, with the weight of emotions neither were ready to name but could no longer ignore.

Outside, the city hummed low and distant. Inside, two hearts stood close, each aching in sync.

---

They didn’t retreat to their rooms just yet.

Instead, they found themselves settled on the floor, backs pressed lightly against the couch, knees nearly touching. The silence lingered long after the world outside settled into its midnight rhythm. It was late — too late for words, too early for sleep — that liminal space where truth dared to float.

Jin exhaled slowly, head tilting until it rested against the cushion behind him. “It’s quiet,” he said softly, barely above a whisper.

Namjoon nodded, his eyes trained on the shadows dancing on the ceiling. “It’s been quiet a lot lately.”

Jin didn’t answer right away. He glanced sideways — eyes tracing the line of Namjoon’s profile, the soft curve of his jaw, the way his brows furrowed when he was deep in thought. There was something fragile about moments like these. Something almost sacred.

Their knees brushed. Neither of them moved.

There it was a stillness that wasn’t really still. The kind that wrapped around your chest and refused to loosen.

Namjoon’s voice came out like a confession disguised as casual. “Sometimes I think about how easy it would be to say something real.”

Jin swallowed hard. “Then why don’t you?”

Namjoon turned to him fully now, their faces inches apart. His voice was steady, but his eyes gave everything away. “Because I don’t know what it would change.”

Jin looked up, eyes wide — not in surprise, but in recognition. His voice trembled around the edge. “Maybe… everything.”

Namjoon’s breath hitched. He reached out — barely — fingers lifting as if to touch Jin’s hand resting beside his. But he stopped just short, trembling in the charged air between them.

Jin didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. But he didn’t close the distance either.

A moment passed. Then another. And then, with a soft sigh that sounded too much like surrender, Namjoon lowered his hand.

“Almost,” he said, more to himself than Jin.

Jin’s chest ached.

He looked at Namjoon then — really looked — and for the first time, saw the raw edges of restraint in the corners of his eyes. The kind that spoke of love tucked away in silence. The kind Jin had been carrying too.

But neither of them were ready to unwrap it just yet.

So they sat there, in that half-light, letting the weight of almost press between them.

Minutes passed.

Then Jin shifted, standing slowly. “We should sleep.”

Namjoon nodded, though his body felt rooted to the floor. “Yeah.”

They moved toward their rooms — Namjoon trailing behind.

At the doorway to Jin’s room, he paused, hand on the frame. He turned, as if to say something — anything — but the words dissolved behind the press of fear and longing.

“Goodnight, hyung,” Namjoon said softly.

Jin nodded. “Goodnight, Joonie.”

The door clicked shut between them.

But behind it, hearts beat louder than words, and silence carried a truth they were both too scared to say out loud.

Chapter Text

The door clicked shut behind Jin with a soft thud. He didn’t bother to turn on the light; he just leaned against the door, breathing in the familiar stillness of his room. The space felt oddly empty despite the noise in his head — too much had been left unsaid. Too much almost happened, but they hadn’t been ready for it.

Jin slid down the door, curling his knees up to his chest, arms wrapping around them. The weight of the unspoken words hung heavily in the air. It was as if everything had shifted in the moment Namjoon had almost reached for him, but they hadn’t allowed it. Not yet.

His room was silent, but the words between them — all the words they hadn’t said — seemed to echo louder than anything.

---

Flashback: 2018 - Rehearsal for Airplane pt.2

It all started with a performance. Or, more specifically, a rehearsal. The air had been thick with choreography, but Namjoon and Jin found themselves harmonizing effortlessly on the stage during Airplane pt.2. Jin hadn’t thought much of it at the time — it was just another song, another moment on stage.

But there was something about how Namjoon’s voice blended with his, perfectly in tune, like it had always been that way. His voice lingered in the air a little too long after the performance ended, and it wasn’t just the song that stayed with Jin. It was the unspoken connection.

Backstage, Jin found Namjoon hunched over in a corner, scribbling furiously in his notebook, headphones on, blocking out everything else. Jin didn’t interrupt. He never did when Namjoon was in this headspace. Instead, he watched from a distance, quiet. Always quiet, but always there.

He didn’t know it then, but those lyrics Namjoon was jotting down would come to mean more to Jin than he could have ever imagined.

---

Flashback: 2018 - The Trivia: Love Moment

A few months later, in the early stages of the Love Yourself era, Namjoon had pulled him aside after a long day of recordings.

“Hyung, can you listen to this?” Namjoon’s voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant.

Jin had taken the offered headphones, pressing them against his ears. The melody was light, easy — but there was something deeper, buried beneath it all. Something Jin couldn’t quite place.

“I live so I love…” The lyrics were playful at first, almost carefree, but then they deepened.

"난 그냥 사람, 사람 사람

(I’m just a human, human, human)

넌 나의 모든 모서릴 잠식

(You erode all my edges)

나를 사랑, 사랑, 사랑으로 만들어 만들어

(and make me a love, love, love)" 

Jin stopped. The words were dangerous in a way that didn’t quite fit the upbeat melody. He looked up at Namjoon, searching for any sign of what he’d just heard.

“This is for the album?” Jin asked, trying to keep his voice steady, but his gaze never left Namjoon’s.

Namjoon nodded, but the look in his eyes told Jin everything he needed to know. It was more than just an album. It was something unspoken. Something Jin wasn’t sure he was ready to understand.

---

Back to Present:

Jin pulled himself up from the floor, now sitting at his desk. His eyes fell on the night sky outside his window, the world outside a blur of city lights and quiet. Inside, the silence was deafening. And yet, the silence felt different now. He wasn’t running from it. He wasn’t pretending.

Everything he’d avoided in his head was coming together now, and the pieces were falling into place. The song Namjoon had written. The way his voice always seemed to wrap around Jin’s in moments that felt a little too close. He had been avoiding it all because he didn’t want to face the truth.

But he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

---

Flashback: 2018 - Balcony Night, Trivia: Love playing

He remembered one night, sitting on the dorm balcony with Namjoon, the faint hum of Trivia: Love playing softly from Namjoon’s phone. Jin had joined him quietly, their knees bumping together as they both stared out at the city below.

“I like this song,” Jin had said, breaking the silence. “It’s... sincere.”

Namjoon nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s about simplicity. About how love can be small things.”

Jin swallowed the lump in his throat. “Like… ramen at midnight?”

Namjoon’s eyes met his, and for the first time, Jin felt like the world had slowed down. It wasn’t just a metaphor. It was real. Namjoon wasn’t speaking in code, wasn’t wrapping his feelings in a lyric. He was speaking the truth — a truth Jin was too afraid to face.

“Yeah,” Namjoon replied softly. “Like that.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy — filled with everything neither of them could say.

---

Flashback - Jin watches Trivia: Love performance alone

The memory blurred into the present, as Jin found himself alone in the practice room that night, watching the Trivia: Love performance. As Namjoon sang, every lyric hit differently now, the meaning behind them clearer than it ever had been before.

"I'm just a person, person, person. You erode me, make me into love."

Jin laughed bitterly, his hand pressing to his forehead as he whispered to the screen, “You idiot. You wrote a love song about me and thought I wouldn’t notice?”

But maybe it was him who had been the idiot. Because, in that moment, he realized — he had noticed. He just hadn’t let himself see it. He hadn’t let himself feel it.

---

Back to Present:

Jin leaned back in his chair, his eyes on the ceiling, though his mind was a million miles away. The ache in his chest was still there, but now it was something else. Something he couldn’t quite define yet. It was a longing, an understanding that was long overdue.

He didn’t have the answers. He didn’t know what to do with all of this — with the truth he had been avoiding, with the feelings he had buried. But for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t trying to push it away.

He was letting it settle, letting it sink in. And maybe that was the first step.

---

Jin stayed up late, staring at the stars through his window. Somewhere out there, Namjoon was probably doing the same. But for now, in this silence between them, the words they couldn’t speak seemed louder than ever.

Chapter Text

He was going to tell him.

Jin didn’t know when it had become so loud inside his chest — that ache, that hum that only seemed to quiet when Namjoon looked at him like the world slowed down just for them. But tonight, for once, he wasn’t going to swallow it. He wasn’t going to tuck it away behind jokes or tired smiles. No metaphors, no soft avoidance. Just words. Finally.

The confession wasn’t going to be poetic. It didn’t have to be.

He just wanted to say it plainly: I like you. I think I’ve liked you for a while. I’m scared, but I want you to know.

His hands fumbled slightly as he smoothed down his hoodie, gripping the small paper bag of rice cakes he’d picked up on the way — Namjoon’s favorite, with extra syrup. Jin had thought it might make things softer, gentler, if everything went sideways. But mostly he just wanted an excuse to see that slow smile Namjoon gave only him.

The hallway was quiet as he approached the corridor that led to the studio rooms. Late-night echo, soft footfalls, distant hum of music. He could hear faint voices from one of the doors up ahead — Namjoon’s studio, maybe? He hesitated, not out of nerves, but just to prepare himself one last time.

And then he heard his name.

“…It’s Jin. That’s what’s throwing him off.”

Jin froze.

Another voice — older, stern, not Namjoon. “We’ve seen the shift, especially these last few months. His judgment’s changed. His priorities, too. He’s more careful now, but not careful enough.”

“We can’t have another scandal. Especially not with the leader involved,” someone added. “One wrong move and the whole thing falls apart. You know how the public is — they forgive fast, but only when there’s a clear villain.”

“Exactly. If people start connecting dots… it won’t just be Namjoon dragged through it. Jin will take the hit too. Maybe harder. And the rest of them — they’ll pay for it.”

Jin’s breath caught in his throat.

It was like the world tilted, just a fraction, just enough to make his stomach lurch.

He backed up a step, but the floor felt unstable. Like he might fall straight through it.

“They’re too close. Fans are already noticing. Sooner or later, someone’s going to dig deeper.”

“And the way Namjoon talks about him? It’s not subtle anymore. It’s a risk. And we need to remind him of what’s at stake.”

There was a pause.

A soft shuffle of papers. A chair creaked.

Then — Namjoon’s voice, quiet. Tired.

“I know. I’ll fix it.”

Jin didn’t hear anything else after that. He didn’t want to.

He turned before his knees could give out, walking fast — too fast — down the hallway, barely remembering to breathe. The paper bag crumpled in his hand. Syrup leaked into his sleeve, but he didn’t feel it. His chest felt too full and too empty at once.

I’ll fix it.

That was the part that hurt the most. Not the implication. Not the fear of being found out. Not even the possibility that they could be ruined. It was that Namjoon had already decided he would fix it — that he would undo whatever they had, to protect the group.

And Jin couldn’t even blame him.

He stumbled into the dorm, straight into the bathroom before anyone could see his face. He turned on the sink and leaned over it, palms pressed hard against the counter, as if the pressure could hold him together. His reflection stared back at him, eyes wide and wet.

He let out a sound he didn’t recognize. Half-sob, half-laugh. Bitter and ugly.

He’d been so close. So fucking close to telling him.

I like you.

I think I’ve always liked you.

And Namjoon had been in a meeting planning how to erase him quietly from the parts of his life that mattered most.

He didn’t cry, not really. His eyes stung, but he didn’t let it spill. He’d been trained better than that.

Instead, Jin looked himself dead in the eye and whispered to the mirror, “You were stupid to believe it was safe.”

Because it never had been.

Not for people like them. Not in this industry. Not when even the quietest kind of love could be weaponized, exposed, twisted into shame.

That night, Jin didn’t sleep. He didn’t text Namjoon. Didn’t knock on his door. He just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, repeating the words he never got to say, like a prayer or a punishment.

I like you.

I wanted to be brave for you.

But it was too late now.

And bravery — whatever form he thought it might take — had no place left to grow in a world where even love had to be rehearsed, trimmed, and hidden in the background.