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Hoseok took the letter out of his locker and placed it in between the pages of his textbook. He started to panic as he walked back to class, having heard of people getting letters in their lockers from an admirer and then ending up in a relationship with them. This had not been a part of his plan for the day, and now his mind was running wild wondering what the girl looked like, if she was nice, what if he knew her? What if he didn’t? Did they still have to go out then? He didn’t have any crushes on girls in any of his classes.
What was he going to do?
It was as he was taking a seat in his chair, mind spinning, that Namjoon’s face popped into the doorway. They made eye contact as he started to walk toward Hoseok. He shuffled into his seat in front of him, removed his ear buds, turned to face him and said, “What’s eating you?”
Hoseok swallowed. “I think I just got a confession.”
“What, who was it! You know I bet it was―”
“I haven’t opened it yet.” Namjoon frowned at him, confused. “The letter, it was a letter. This―hey!”
Namjoon had snatched it out of his hand, holding it above both their heads, and as much as Hoseok stretched, he couldn’t reach it. If Hoseok stood up, he figured Namjoon would just stand up too and keep holding it above his head, except even higher, so he gave up. Namjoon ripped open the envelope and then the bastard started reading it out loud.
Hoseok clamped his hand over Namjoon’s mouth and hissed, “Shut the fuck up, maybe?????”
Namjoon moved his head away. “Relax, she just talks about your pretty pretty eyes and your pretty pretty mouth.” Hoseok could feel himself blushing, but at least he could chalk this up to the letter and not Namjoon’s smile when he'd said pretty pretty eyes. “Actually, the part about your thighs is true, you could kill a man with the strength in those fuckers. It sounds like she’s the girl in your dance―yep, she signed her name and it’s the girl from your dance class that I told you wanted your dick.” He handed the letter back. “Damn, our Hoshiki is finally becoming a man.”
Hoseok started reading the letter and blushed even harder at the way she talked about his legs. He didn’t know if he wanted to keep wearing his basketball shorts to class or if he wanted something shorter or if he wanted to wrap himself into a burrito and never attend class again. He was freaking out.
“So?” Namjoon’s voice jolted him out of his meltdown.
“So I’m not going to meet with her.” Tomorrow after dance practice was too soon, he wasn’t prepared. He just wanted to dance and pass his midterms, he hadn't been thinking about this, and he wasn’t ready for it.
“Oh come on, this could be your―”
“I don’t even know her, Namjoon! And we have exams coming up and you know I’m barely passing my classes.”
“Yeah, but I also know I’ve been tutoring you, and you’ll be just fine. You’ve never had a girlfriend, man, but I’m the nerd with the glasses who reads too much.”
“Excuse you, I have had a girlfriend.”
“Sixth grade doesn’t count.” Hoseok clamped his mouth shut because he was actually going to mention his second grade girlfriend. He’d never had a girlfriend in sixth grade, it was just something he’d told Namjoon to get him off his back with all the questions. Something he told anyone that asked.
“I’m not ready for a girlfriend, Namjoon.” And he really wasn’t. Luckily, the teacher had walked in at that point, starting class, and Namjoon didn’t get a chance to talk as everyone faced forward and welcomed her.
Hoseok spent the lesson worrying about how to let the girl down as gently as he could; worrying about how he was going to feel in dance class after that, knowing she was right there and he'd disappointed her. He was considering pretending that he already had a girlfriend that just went to another school, when the bell rang, and classes ended for the day.
Hoseok and Namjoon got on the train to Namjoon’s house, and as Namjoon started their end of day quizzes on the topic of their last tutoring session, Hoseok’s mind wandered. He answered the questions reflexively, having practiced after he'd gotten home the previous day.
Maybe she could be his girlfriend. Maybe he could tell her and she could just be his fake girlfriend for the rest of high school. But that would mean he’d have to tell her in the first place, and he honestly didn’t know what kind of person she was at all. What if she told people? What if she got upset that he asked her to be his fake girlfriend when she wanted to be his real one instead? What if he just begged her not to tell anyone?
“―lo Hoseok, are you in there?” Namjoon was snapping his fingers in front of his eyes.
“Yeah, sorry. What?”
“Do you want juice or soda?” Hoseok was sitting on a stool under the kitchen counter. When did they get to Namjoon’s house?
“Uh, did your mom get the mango pineapple blend thingy again?” He’d only had it once but it was already his favorite.
“Yeah, she said she remembered how much you liked it.” As he poured Hoseok’s glass for him, he noted the cut on Namjoon’s index finger. It had probably happened when he was wrestling the letter away from him. Hoseok got up to go get a bandaid.
Namjoon didn't ask where he was going or what he was doing. He'd been over to Namjoon's house so many times by now, it was as familiar as his own. So he knew where to find the bandaid. Partly because this place was practically his second home, and partly because Namjoon had accidentally hurt himself so many times over the years, that the first aid kit was the one thing Hoseok could find even if he was blindfolded. Namjoon was the reason his mom had it in her house in the first place, and at one point, the bandaids were all in a Shrek pattern, Namjoon's favorite character at the time. He grew out of that, though.
He listened for the sound of Namjoon going up the stairs to his bedroom to start their lesson, and he took a moment to collect himself. Another hour of Namjoon speaking in low tones and looking at him was impossible for him to bear today, when he had to make it seem like the reason he refused to get himself a girlfriend had nothing to do with Namjoon’s voice. Or lips. Or eyes.
No, this Hoseok had never gone home after some of their lessons and replayed the memory of Namjoon’s voice in his ear as he came into his hand. This Hoseok has never watched Namjoon lick his lips and wondered what they would feel like against his own. Nah, that’s a different Hoseok, living in a different dimension. Today’s Hoseok was probably going to get himself a girlfriend tomorrow.
He braced himself and ascended the steps with the bandaid in his hand.
He opened the door to find biology textbooks and two notebooks open on the low table in Namjoon’s room. Namjoon was seated on the wood floor on one side of it, sipping at a glass of juice. Hoseok took a seat on the opposite side of the table and held his hand out. Puzzled, Namjoon started looking around for whatever it was Hoseok was asking for.
“No, your hand,” he pointed to the hand holding the glass of juice. Namjoon put the glass down, and held out his palm, still looking like he didn’t get it. Hoseok sighed and wrapped the bandaid over the cut on his index finger.
“Oh, yeah,” Namjoon said sheepishly, and Hoseok resisted the urge to mock him. Namjoon passed Hoseok’s own glass of juice over the table after he was done with the bandaid. "Here."
“Thanks.” He took a few drinks then set it down on the floor, turning his eyes to the textbook in front of him. He thought they were both just reading; Namjoon figuring out how to compress the information in order to explain it to Hoseok when he came up with his questions, Hoseok ignoring the rush of tenderness he’d felt at taking care of Namjoon’s injury. It wasn’t even that big of a deal this time, get over yourself, Hoseok. But then Namjoon took a breath to start talking.
“You don’t have to meet her.” Hoseok’s head came up. The look on Namjoon’s face suggested that he’d been staring at him the entire time that Hoseok thought they were reading. He ducked his head back down before the blush spread to every corner of his face. “If you don’t want a girlfriend, that’s fine.” Hoseok’s heartbeat started to pick up. “If you’re too stressed out or...or whatever, that’s cool. I didn’t mean to, like, pressure you or anything. I just thought that you might want―”
“I don’t know how to kiss.” It was the truth, but it came out of Hoseok unexpectedly. “That’s why―I mean, it’s why I’m nervous. About meeting her." That was a lie. "M-my past girlfriend and I didn’t really do anything―I mean, we were young―”
“I’ll teach you.” Hoseok froze. “If you’d like. I’ve had a lot of experience with kissing and―and with other stuff, so I can help you. But only if you're, like, chill with it.”
Yes, Hoseok was chill with it, Hoseok was so chill with it he was sub-zero with it. But Namjoon had only ever dated girls. Hoseok was even close with one of his past girlfriends. Honestly, Hoseok thought it was a bit obvious on his side, the fact that he liked guys. If anyone was really curious, it wouldn’t take a lot of digging to figure it out. But in the years Hoseok had known Namjoon, he hadn’t once gotten an inkling that he might be into guys, too.
“I mean, it’s not good for the guy to not know about these things. It would be embarrassing, you know. For a man’s pride.”
“Yeah.” Namjoon was nodding. “Do you wanna go first? See what you think you know? Or...? Are you okay with me―”
“Y-Yeah, no, you go first.” Hoseok didn’t know how much he would be able to hide if he initiated this. “I really don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Okay, yeah. Okay.”
Namjoon was about to move when Hoseok remembered their drinks. “The juice!” He yelled a little too loudly, making Namjoon jump in alarm. “Sorry. The juice, you’ll―don’t kick it. Here,” he held his hand out for the glass, and when Namjoon handed it over, he took his own glass in his other hand and placed both cups on the nightstand beside Namjoon’s bed.
Ripping his mind away from the thought of Namjoon’s bed, more specifically, his body on Namjoon’s bed, he sat back down across from Namjoon...who was in the midst of closing several books―oh, okay, all the books, and placing them on the floor. When the table was cleared, he looked across at Hoseok.
“Ready?”
Hoseok swallowed hard. “Yeah, I’m ready.” He wasn’t ready. God, what if he moaned? You couldn’t moan just from kissing could you?
Namjoon placed both hands on either side of his face and it sure looked like he was going to find something out. Namjoon got closer, and he couldn’t have been moving in slow motion, that would be ridiculous, but as Hoseok stared at his lips, goddamn did it feel that way.
Abruptly, his mouth started to water, and he swallowed his spit down along with his mortification. Namjoon wasn’t food, what the fuck, how inappropriate― their lips connected and Hoseok gasped, dragging air in through his nose.
Namjoon’s mouth was...Namjoon’s mouth was soft, so soft and so so full. His lips overwhelmed Hoseok’s own, both Hoseok’s top and bottom lips were drowning in sensation, and he could feel his entire body lighting up in anticipation. Namjoon pressed a little harder and Hoseok bit back the moan threatening to bubble up out of his throat.
God help him, he wanted more. But before he could press himself against Namjoon to do―well, he didn’t know what, there was a table between them and he didn’t think all the dramas and all the movies he’d ever watched could have prepared him for what he was feeling right now. But in the nick of time, Namjoon pulled back before Hoseok could ruin things.
Hands still cupped around Hoseok’s face, voice low, breath fanning across Hoseok’s lips, Namjoon said, “Now you try.”
Namjoon’s eyes were lidded and his mouth looked fuller, if you could believe that, and when Hoseok licked his tingling lips, Namjoon’s eyes tracked the movement. Hoseok’s heart was beating fast, and he could literally feel the blood in his body pumping through his veins, deafening his ears, collecting in other places. Thank god for this fucking table.
Hoseok knew that his hands would shake too much if he were to cup them around Namjoon’s face, so he left them where they were (in a death grip on the bottom edge of the table), didn't move Namjoon’s from where his were (still cupped around his face) and brought his face forward to press their lips together again.
The fit was different this time, Hoseok having shifted in from a lower angle, and that pushed their mouths together in a different way, causing a whole different set of sensations to spark from the kiss. Hoseok would have been fascinated if he wasn’t so busy trying to swallow down another moan. Turns out he was wrong, and that you could definitely moan just from kissing; spring entire erections, even.
He pulled back to drag some air into his lungs as casually as he could. When he saw that Namjoon was breathing a little hard, too, he let himself breathe more deeply.
“Good,” Namjoon said. “Good, now―” he removed his hands from Hoseok’s face and wiped his palms down the front of his school dress shirt. “Uh, sorry, my hands get clammy. Now we’re gonna kiss a little more deeply. If that's okay?”
Hoseok nodded. “I gotta learn.” He really wanted to know what Namjoon tasted like.
“Okay. You can place your hands wherever you like, to get a grip. You can hold her face, like I held yours, or you can hold her waist. If you’re really shy, you can place a few fingers on her arms just to get a feel for your body positions while you kiss. Okay, here we go.”
He moved in again, this time not holding onto Hoseok, and their lips came together for a third time. Again, there was that slight difference in sensation, and Hoseok wondered how many kisses it would take until it would feel like the first time Namjoon kissed him. Hoseok removed his hands from under the table, the shaking having subsided, and placed them on Namjoon’s shoulders.
Now his mind was absorbing the twin feelings of Namjoon’s shoulders, curved toward him and strong, and Namjoon’s lips against his own. He was crashing at sea and he was holding on to an immovable boulder at the same time. He was getting used to things, when Namjoon parted his lips over his own and set a slow rhythm between them.
Hoseok’s hands clenched on Namjoon’s shoulders and his eyes squeezed tighter when sensation shot simultaneously up his spine and down to his cock. He parted his lips too, following Namjoon’s lead, and it was real work trying to keep every noise threatening to leave his throat right where it was.
Then Namjoon sucked his lower lip into his mouth, and Hoseok couldn’t help his gasped cry. He froze, waiting to see if Namjoon would stop, but Namjoon kept mouthing at his tensed lips like he was trying to get him to relax. Namjoon sucked on his upper lip, and Hoseok jolted, moaning into his mouth, and still Namjoon seemed unfazed.
Hoseok guessed Namjoon was used to this. He was really good at kissing and he must be so used to girls making as much noise as, if not more than, Hoseok was, that Hoseok’s reactions didn’t affect him.
The realization saddened him a little, but for the most part Hoseok used it as a reason to let go. He wasn’t sure when, if ever, he would get a chance to make out with Namjoon again, and he wasn’t going to waste this by overthinking. He was going to drown in every single sensation he got out of this, and he would replay it as many times as he needed to in the years to come. He was going to make the most of this.
At that thought, Hoseok felt like his body released so much tension that it was tangible. And he supposed it was, because Namjoon pulled back and said, “Good, you’re relaxing. It’s important to be relaxed during situations like this. Now it’s your―”
Hoseok cupped Namjoon’s face and brought it in to kiss him. Namjoon’s hands scrabbled at the table for purchase amidst the sudden displacement. Hoseok kissed him deeply, just like Namjoon showed him to, and he could have sworn he heard Namjoon suppress a moan of his own. But Hoseok couldn’t be sure; the adrenaline was making him hyper aware of everything little thing, and the loudest sounds were coming from the center of his own damn chest.
He let Namjoon go, their lips separating with an imperceptible pop, and he dragged in a few desperate breaths with, again, as much subtlety as he could muster. He was going to let go of his inhibitions, not his sanity. After all, he did plan on walking away from this fully closeted with a girlfriend by the end of the week. Namjoon was breathing a little hard, too, but that was to be expected. Hoseok didn’t exactly hold back, disappearing all the air between them. He’d been told he was a fast learner.
“Good.” Namjoon licked his lips. Swallowed. “Good, that was, uh―you did good. Now…” He pushed his hand into Hoseok’s hair, and Hoseok’s head fell back, eyes falling shut. He’d always loved having his hair played with. When Namjoon spoke again, it was against his lips. “French kissing.” And Namjoon licked a seam across Hoseok’s lips.
On Hoseok’s gasp, Namjoon licked inside his mouth. Hoseok scrambled for a hold on the front of Namjoon’s shirt as he let out the loudest moan yet. He tasted like mangoes and pineapples in some blended mix; he tasted like his favorite juice. He tasted like his favorite person.
Namjoon just kept going, licking deeper inside his mouth, pressing his tongue against Hoseok’s and licking there too. Namjoon ran his tongue over Hoseok’s teeth, which was unexpected. But then he started gently sucking on Hoseok’s tongue, and Hoseok’s mind went white under the onslaught; the sucking sensation heading straight to his cock. If he’d been thinking, he might have been worried that he was going to come, but as it was, all he could do was try to live through the pleasure searing his body.
His hands fisted harder in Namjoon’s shirt, but neither of them noticed. The kiss went on longer than any of the others, and Hoseok felt like he could stay like this forever. But it was over too soon, Namjoon pulling back too soon, their lips separating too damn soon.
As he tried to catch his breath, Hoseok took in the state Namjoon was in. Out of breath, eyes dark and slightly unfocused, lips red―lips so red―Hoseok’s hands still fisted in his shirt exposing his collarbones and his long, long neck. He was gorgeous, and it took everything in Hoseok’s power not to pounce back onto him.
For a second Hoseok wondered if maybe this was the line. If maybe this was what it meant to cross it, and if now Namjoon would tell him to stop and get out of his house.
But then Namjoon parted his lips, started saying the words “Now you,” and Hoseok was back on him, pushing his tongue into Namjoon’s mouth. As they kissed, he moved one hand from Namjoon’s shirt to his jaw to hold him in place for deeper access. But the angle was awkward, Hoseok’s other hand trapped between them, so he moved the other one to the back of Namjoon’s head and pushed it into his hair.
Namjoon bit at his lower lip, and Hoseok jumped―what the fuck, you could do that?
Hoseok bit back, keeping his teeth clamped down and sucking on, then running his tongue over, the flesh in his mouth, and gently pulled back. He released Namjoon’s lip on his sigh and was going to go for his lips again when Namjoon started kissing down Hoseok’s jaw.
The hand he had fisted in the hair at Namjoon’s nape dug in, his other hand moving to Namjoon’s back as his lips moved lower to Hoseok’s neck. And if he'd thought his body was burning up before, he was molten lava now, aware of nothing and no one that wasn’t Namjoon and his lips on his neck.
Hoseok wrapped his arms tighter around Namjoon, moaning in earnest, consumed by the feeling of his pulse drumming against Namjoon’s lips. God, he wanted this forever; he wanted Namjoon’s mouth on his neck forever.
Then Namjoon bit down and Hoseok came. Right then and there, in his pants, on the floor of Namjoon’s bedroom, during their tutoring session.
Namjoon unlatched his mouth from Hoseok’s neck. “I’m so sorry,” he said, and he sounded like he was being strangled. Then he ran out of the room to lock himself in the bathroom across the hall from his bedroom.
Hoseok blinked through the rest of his orgasm, mind shutting down and screaming at the same time. What just happened? Did Namjoon...leave? Did Hoseok upset him so much that Namjoon had to leave? This was Namjoon’s house, if anybody had to leave it was Hoseok. So why did he―why the bathroom?
Hoseok got up, feeling the wetness at the front of his pants get colder. He balked at himself, feeling sticky and embarrassed and humiliated and curious and a thousand other things all at once.
Shuffling across the hallway, he called out, “Namjoon? Namjoon, are you―are you okay?”
“I’m sorry.” His voice sounded muffled through the door. “I shouldn’t have―I should have stopped earlier. I’m sorry.” He sounded just as mortified as Hoseok felt, and Hoseok was suddenly determined to find out why.
“I―you were helping me out, remember? You were―you were teaching me? It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. I wasn’t just teaching you, I wanted to―” he choked, and Hoseok felt his stomach drop at the thought that he might be crying. “I wanted to kiss you. Been wanting to for a while and I took advantage and I’m so so sorry.”
Hoseok stood there with his mind spinning and had to catch himself on the wall so didn’t fall over or something. I wanted to kiss you.
“It’s okay if you want to leave.” Namjoon sounded worse, probably taking Hoseok’s silence to mean something it didn’t. “I won’t be upset or anything. And if you don’t wanna be friends anymore”― more of that goddamn choking―“that’s cool too.”
Hoseok rattled the door, but it was just as locked as he thought it was. “Open the door, Namjoon. I gotta―” he looked down at himself, “I gotta show you something.”
“Please, Hoseok, this is hard. I can’t...if you look at me the way I think you might look at me, it’ll kill me, I swear it will.”
“I won’t look at you like anything, I promise. I’ll even turn away.” He turned away. “You just...you have to see this.” If Namjoon was going to feel embarrassed and humiliated and mortified and a hundred different variations of the same feeling at the same time, then he had to know he wasn’t alone in it. “Please, just trust me.”
It took a minute or two, Hoseok standing there with the come drying on the inside of his underwear making him feel more stupid by the second, but eventually Namjoon opened the door. Hoseok closed his eyes and turned back around to face the bathroom door.
“See? Not looking at you. Do you see my pants?” Suddenly he felt vulnerable.
“Yeah,” Namjoon sounded flat, and Hoseok wished he could open his eyes to gauge his reaction. But he had a point to prove; Namjoon could trust him to keep his word.
“You did that to me. With kisses. You did that to me just by kissing me. Can you guess why?”
“Because...you didn’t hate it?”
“Because I didn’t hate it!” It wouldn’t have been Hoseok’s choice of words, but he could work with it. “Can you guess why I didn’t hate it?” He wasn’t going to wait for Namjoon to guess. “Because I’m gay. I’m like...super gay. Super duper gay. The supreme gay.” He paused to consider. "The gay overlord."
The words and I like you almost left his lips, but one confession at a time, Hoseok. His eyes were still closed, and thank god, because it protected some of his vulnerability, too. His voice wasn't shaking, which was nice, and he didn't have to avert his gaze to hide his feelings.
“I was going to ask that girl to be my beard tomorrow. And I didn’t know how it was going to go, I’ve never actually come out to anyone before right this second”―he started laughing and it was a little too loud―”but that was the plan!”
“Hoseok, you can open your eyes, I get it.” Namjoon sounded calmer, almost soothing.
“No, wait, I’m not done. I like you. And you’re a good kisser. Okay, now I’m done.” He opened his eyes to find Namjoon smiling the way he did when he was embarrassed. He didn't look like he'd been crying, thank god, but the tips of his ears were pink. Hoseok felt a corresponding blush spread across his own cheeks, and goddammit, this wasn’t the national synchronized blushing event.
Then Hoseok glanced down.
“Oh my god.” He didn't mean to, but he started to laugh hard. The front of Namjoon’s pants were unzipped and there was a strand of come on his zipper. “Did you run in there to orgasm?” he tried, but he’d used up all the air in his lungs laughing, and the last word was a wheeze.
Namjoon was laughing too, and his face was red from the strain. “We’re idiots,” he managed to get out, and Hoseok laughed harder when he pointed at the come stain on Hoseok’s pants.
Namjoon collapsed on the floor first, and the image of Namjoon splayed out, fly open with the drop of come on the zipper, made Hoseok laugh that much harder. It went on for a while, Hoseok wheezing, “I’m gonna pee, I’m gonna pee,” and absolutely losing his mind when Namjoon heaved, “At least you came first.”
By the end of it, they were both on the floor, wiping their tears and setting each other off with the slightest chuckle. But Namjoon regained his senses first.
“What are you gonna tell her?”
Hoseok shrugged, sweat clinging to every inch of his body. “That I like someone else.”
Namjoon smiled and his cheek dimpled. “The beard thing might have been a good cover, though. Or just, you know. Tell me if anyone gives you a hard time and I’ll kick their ass.”
“Hasn’t happened, yet. I guess I’m just paranoid.”
“That’s good. Not the paranoia―I mean, that could be good too, in terms of safety, but like, everybody minding their own damn business. That’s good. But if they don't,” he punched a fist into the center of his palm, “I’ll take care of them.”
“Namjoon, I’ve seen you fight a losing battle against a bee.”
“So have you!”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m not out here acting like I haven’t!”
“Whatever, just for that, I’m showering first.”
“Were your girlfriends beards, too?”
Namjoon looked at him for a long while. “No. All I know is that I liked kissing them and I like kissing you.” He shrugged, but he looked away.
“That’s cool. Can’t exactly help that shit, right? Like I can’t really help that I like just kissing boys, even though it would make my life so much easier if I just liked girls.”
“What would make your life easier is if people just got the fuck over it.” He got up off the floor. Looked back down at Hoseok, sprawled out on the ground. Looked at Hoseok’s pants, then back at Hoseok’s face. “Was I that good?”
Hoseok was about to tell him to piss off, when he noted the sincerity behind the question. “Yeah, it was good.” Then he swung his leg up and nailed Namjoon right on the ass. “Go shower, some of us have actual come plastering itself to our actual skin.”
Namjoon might have had the decency to remember that he was the cause of it, because he shut his mouth and hobbled his way back into the bathroom.
Hoseok sighed, letting all the tightness drain from his muscles. One person. There was one person he completely got to be himself around, and it brought an overwhelming feeling of contentment to him that he hadn’t felt previously. He spent a few more minutes on the ground, letting it course through his veins.
Then he hauled himself up and headed back into Namjoon’s room. Spotted the abandoned glasses of juice on the nightstand. Took his and drank, remembering the taste of Namjoon against his lips. Sat back down on his side of the table, trying and failing to concentrate on the textbook he reopened.
It was as he was taking another sip that the realization hit him. Namjoon’s mom wasn’t there when he’d had his first taste of this juice. In fact, it was him and Namjoon sitting across from each other at this very table. No one else.
And it was Namjoon that told his mom to get more of this juice just because Hoseok literally couldn’t shut up about how much he’d liked it. Hoseok took another sip, feeling the cool rim of the glass push against his burning cheeks.
Then he ripped out a piece of paper from one of his notebooks and started writing a letter. It may or may not have contained the words pretty pretty mouth and it may or may not have asked Namjoon to be his boyfriend. He folded the paper, placed it on Namjoon's side of the table and finished drinking his juice.