it was all just a dream

Namjoon and Yoongi have known eachother for as long as they could spell their own names, but that wasn't enough to keep Namjoon from wanting to slap his friend upside the head sometimes.

What did keep him from doing so were the little things. The song Yoongi wrote him for his seventeenth birthday, a last minute rap that lasted all of fifty seconds written on a crumbled sheet of lined paper; A song that Namjoon wouldn’t be able to remember even if someone put a gun to his head and told him to recite it. The way that he could read his mind on any given day and act accordingly, and how they’d have a conversation with one another through brief glances and raised eyebrows alone.

Yet he still managed to discover a way to be utterly infuriating.

The other night, the all too allusive Min Yoongi, cat-eyed and full of indifference, crawled into his bed in the middle of the night. Have you ever watched the flicking tongue of a snake as it slithered toward a mouse, and then looked away before it could swallow the mouse whole? That's what Yoongi was to Namjoon on nights like these, intruding into the covers and tangling himself in Namjoon's longer limbs.

Namjoon wouldn't have any issue with a few nighttime cuddles, Yoongi's was just one of the many affectionate boys in their group of friends, and wasn't anywhere near the worst of it. Jimin could be more attached to him than his own skin, and Taehyung was like a puppy in the way he needed constant verbal and physical affirmation to make sure they were, in fact, best friends forever.

Yoongi's not like that, not most of the time. He came with a purpose.

"What's wrong?"  

"Nothing's wrong," Yoongi was simply laying by Namjoon's side at this point, before rolling over into him. "I'm just annoyed with this project. I texted my lab partner, Seungwan, and she’s more lost than I am. I'm never gonna finish this dumb fucking -- stupid fucking -- fuck this project. I'm getting pissed just thinking about it."  

"You should have never took engineering."

He really shouldn't have, but Namjoon knew why he did. He'd spent enough time at his house growing up to know of the expectations his parents had for him, as did every parent. Namjoon had almost fallen into the same trap, on track for medical school until one day, with the lyrics of Epik High's Fly on loop in his head, something stirred in him to stand up and say no. Namjoon spent his first year as a music major estranged from his parents, while Yoongi spent it as the epitome of the perfect son, and unhappy.

Namjoon spoke again. "On the brightside, only one more year."

"Shut up, please."

That was not the first night, where everything was different. Where those lines between friendship and lover blurred, for just an hour, sometimes two.

Yoongi, rather than sulk and complain, opted to release a kiss onto Namjoon's neck - and then another.

"Mm."

He keeps going, further and further, and Namjoon never tries to stop him, even when he knows he should. He palms the bulge in Yoongi's track pants, which seems to be exactly what he wants, and gets to work, going for just long enough until the warmth was enough to burn away any remaining irritation.  

Namjoon never went all the way with Yoongi, but it would probably be pretty nice.

Yoongi's lips had that sweet taste of rum the first time, and it calmed the bitter flames of the vodka present in Namjoon's throat. He couldn't say for sure who made the first move, but he could perfectly recall the pleasant fuzz that clouded his senses, and the way Yoongi moaned as if no one could hear them, as if Jin wasn't in the next room over.

When Namjoon awoke, the faint memory of Yoongi's weight in his mattress was all that remained. Any semblance of permanency floated into the air like dust, he greeted a smirking all-knowing Jin the next morning and went to class none the wiser. A dream, he chalked the whole thing up to, just a weird dream.

"Can I be honest?"

"Go off."

"I'm starting to think Yoongi isn't exactly straight."

Silence.

Like a choir, Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung burst into loud, screeching laughter, accompanied with celebratory hand clapping and Hoseok throwing himself into Namjoon's lap because he can't keep his balance with the sheer humor of it all.

"-And you just realized this!?"

Namjoon swallowed something stuck in his throat.

It's during a brief period of peace with Yoongi, who's laying sprawled against Namjoon's chest, when he asks about it. Namjoon had meant to approach such a subject with the utmost eloquence and thoughtfulness - You can trust me with anything you know, sometimes I feel like you tell the others things you won't tell me. I never would have judged you if you told me you like more than just girls. Do you even know how much respect and appreciation I have for you? That I'll always have for you?

But what came out of Namjoon's mouth is, "Do you give all of us blowjobs?"

Yoongi didn't answer immediately. Namjoon lifted his neck, but all he could see was the black waves of hair on the top of his head, leaning against his chest. The air in the room fogged with the added tension, and Namjoon could only guess what Yoongi's face looked like.

He said nothing. Nothing . He shuffled out of the covers and away from him, leaving the room with the mundane click of the door closing behind him.

That was something Namjoon had always known about Yoongi, his silence was louder than anything, he never had to yell.

"Fool me once? Shame on me. Fool me twice? Shame on you. Suck my dick a third time and 'no homo' is officially off limits." Jin yelped into laughter at his own joke before Namjoon could even process the words.

This was why Namjoon came to Jin for absolutely nothing.

"You're not funny."

"You're gay," Jin said, practically basking in the glare he's earned from Namjoon. "-No excuses, you sucked his dick."

Namjoon rose from his seat. "Don't tell the others."

"Why not? The rest of us admitted we were at least a little gay freshman year, we've been waiting for your coming out for years - years!"    

So you knew about Yoongi too? Namjoon wanted to ask. There was something humiliating about the fact people who Yoongi had known for three years knew more than the one who knew him for fifteen; An anchor of shame dropped silently into his empty gut.  

"Not about that," Namjoon said instead, digging into the fridge for a can of beer. "About me and Yoongi, what we've been...you know."

"Oh no, I won't. That'd scar Jungkook and you know it, that's like when you find out that your mom and dad have sex for the first time."

He tossed the can of beer in his hand, not caring enough to see where it landed, if it smacked against the handsome face that was the older's pride, or broke something along the way.  

"...I don't."

Namjoon detached from him, and Yoongi groaned once the cold air met his wet length. "Wh-What?"

"I don't give the others blow jobs, you're an asshole for saying that."

"I know, I'm sorry. Really." Namjoon, about to dip his head back under the covers, stopped to continue his thought. "Also, It's really hard to have a conversation with you while your dick is in my mouth." He moved to go under for a second time, and halted again. "Also, neither do I."

"Neither do you what?

"Give the others blowjobs."

"Good."

Shards of glass could cut you so easily, a sharp end that sinks deep into your skin, yet you don't immediately feel it when it does. That was the thing about them, he and Yoongi; Their bond was like glass, clear and delicate, it could break at one wrong move, with the simplest of words that hit the other in just the right place.

With someone as clumsy as he was, who has broken more than enough glass made objects, a connection like that was futile. Or that's what he thought, cause no matter how bad the fall, no matter how worse the cut, they somehow put themselves back together as if it had never been touched.

"Joon, your cup!"

Snapped forcefully from his reverie, the weight that had been steady in his hand slipped out before he could save it. The jarring sound of shattering glass cut out the white noise that had been playing as a soundtrack to his own thoughts.

He cursed, watching the reflective shards twinkle menacingly on the tiled floor. "Shit."

"You know, sometimes me and Jimin talk about getting a plastic set just for you." Jungkook jokes, it wasn't anything new to him.

"Let me guess! Namjoon bumped into something again." Jimin calls out, turning around the corner to be met with the new mess decorating the floor of his kitchen.

"He spaced out, I think."

"The last time you did this shit, I was stepping on tiny - like I swear microscopic pieces of glass that we couldn't clean up."  

Jimin ushers Namjoon out with mumbled reassurances that everything was fine and the two of them would clean it up. Today was one of their regular get-togethers, but it'd be the last one before they'd return home for the holidays. Jimin thought it appropriate to replace their soft drinks with alcohol, alcohol which Namjoon had just spilled half a glass of onto the ground, along with the cup.

In the living room, sat the rest of them, gathered close around Jungkook's flat screen. Namjoon could hear the muted yet very present sound of crunching as Jin and Taehyung shared a bag of chips. Hoseok lounged in a recliner, leaning back and huddling into his blanket, mindlessly flicking through Netflix.

With midterms having marched to and fro and subsequently ruined their lives, Yoongi had been a bumbling mess of yawns and naps for the past month. All both Jin and Namjoon had seen of their roommate was him fast asleep on their couch and drooling on his study notes, and glimpses of him going to and from the school before locking himself in his room.

He wasn't here, Namjoon's shoulders slumped.

"Where's Yoongi?"

"Canceled," Hoseok muttered with a deep-set pout, not looking away from the screen.

"Since when?"

"Five minutes ago."

"Hobi's still pissed." Jin chimes in, the bag rustling as he picked it up and held it out to Namjoon.

Namjoon took a handful of chips, and watched as Hoseok’s pout only deepened, a rare darkness in his eyes that only appeared when you had truly committed the worst of his friendship sins. "I wouldn't be if it weren't for this being our last night here, or if he weren't ditching for Seungwan. I would never...we would never!"

The room lapses back into a silence, as if they imagine Namjoon can understand every word and name that had just left their mouths.

"Seungwan?"

Despite everything, Yoongi was always the one to initiate things. Even when he wore his favourite black skinny jeans, and Namjoon's eyes became glued to the gentle curves of his thighs and the belt that hugged his waist. Even when, just like that snake, he wanted nothing more to devour him whole - he didn't, he waited for him.

It felt strange to take what he knew wasn't truly his.

Then came those past two months, where Yoongi tiptoed around Namjoon, as if coming any closer would break him. Namjoon thought it all in his head, Yoongi was busy, he was an engineering major, he just had to focus. Namjoon thought he was the one who could always make him focus, rejuvenate him, perhaps he was wrong. He was fine with that.

In reality, however, there was Seungwan. Pretty girl Seungwan, with her delicate face and cherry coloured lips. Slim and yet plump just where it mattered.

Jin's words hit so cold that icicles could have formed from his lips. "Seungwan and Yoongi have been dating for the past 2 months."

Why didn't you tell me sooner? Namjoon wanted to yell back at him. Why didn't any of you tell me sooner? Why didn't Yoongi tell me sooner? His heart raged against his ribcage, it wanted to scream and shout too, it wanted to run away from the man child it was stuck in, and who idiotically decided to fall in love with his best friend. The best friend he didn't know was gay until he found his way into Namjoon's sheets, the best friend who never spoke about their moments of passion in the day, the best friend who couldn't care less.

"I'm gonna go get another drink," he said instead.

And so he moved on, moved forward. Swallowed the feelings and let them dissolve somewhere in his gut. The next time he'd see Yoongi, with Seungwan hanging off his arm, he'd smile graciously and greet the both of them. Observing Yoongi as he'd mask on a disinterested demeanor when he did something thoughtful for her. He'd welcome Seungwan like the morning sun, he'd laugh at the jokes she'd quip about all the little ticks Yoongi had that Namjoon was long accustomed to and support her when she’d eventually come to him with questions like “what type of food would Yoongi want me to get?”, “Do you think Yoongi would like this as a gift?”. He'd listen attentively to every word, as if she wasn't just echoing the thoughts and feelings that had planted into his very being like a weed, sprouting once again every time he thought he’d picked it out.  

Or at least that's what he would have liked to say happened, and that's what would have happened, had it not been for the long road trip he was stuck on the morning after Namjoon found out about her.

A blanket of mist settles across their driveway like smoke. The overnight storm pelted away the flames of his intoxication, but the subsequent hangover pounded just as relentlessly.

By the car, a phantom stood, posture hunched. Yoongi looked like he was sinking into a black hole with his oversized winter coat, it was almost endearing.

Cute. Adorable actually.

Yoongi smirked. "Wow, who hit you with a bus?"

You.

The grey scarf flew from his pocket as he wrapped it around his neck and up his face, until all but his swollen eyes showed. "Let's just get this over with," He uttered, voice muffled.  

It wasn't a ritual more than it was convenient for Yoongi to drive him back home for the holidays. Their houses were five minute walks between each other respectively, and Namjoon, with his immense lack of grace and poise, has never dared touch a steering wheel in his life. Yoongi liked to say he was his personal uber, then again he also liked to complain about how annoying that was.

On the passenger's side, his eyes catch a rip edged into the cushion with the tiniest of threads holding it together - How is this piece of shit car still alive, honestly? There he sits down stiffly, another place he has essentially spent the past several years making a home of, and the two set off.

The nausea was already striking, and not just from the hangover. Something boiled unwelcome in his chest, and ran all the way down to his abdomen.

Apparently he isn't doing a good job of hiding it, cause Yoongi speaks up and says, "Don't throw up in here."

"I won't. " He snaps back.

Fuck.

He used to think he was better than this, better at setting emotion aside in favour of the overall peace that'd remain instead. Lips zipped shut meant tranquility, and Namjoon valued that; Especially with him, he who he hates more than anything right now.

How...how? How did he fall for this badly acted charade, of course Yoongi never wanted him - like that - if he did, he would have said so.

Stop. Shut up. It isn't that serious.

His jaw locks.

But it really is.

Namjoon's an atheist, but for the first time in years he prays.

He prays that this ride will proceed in silence, because if not, the emotions he didn't have enough time to bury will overflow and drown whatever was left of he and Yoongi's relationship.

Fortunately, the prayer is answered, though sparingly. Identical looking streets pass by wordlessly, with Yoongi twisting and turning through roads and towns that Namjoon can't recognize. His eyes are too exhausted to focus on anything, not that there was anything worth looking at; Every building becomes a blur of mild colours, and the sky is as gray and dull as watching cement dry.

"We're close," Yoongi says.

Namjoon hums, along with the engine as the car slows down, going up a soft incline into a gas station.

The driver's side door opens, Yoongi huddling into his coat as a gust whistles into the vehicle. "I'll be right back."

Don't come back. Just leave me in here to shrivel up and die.

When Yoongi returns, rushing into his seat before shutting the door and ramming the engine again, he says nothing. But Namjoon can hear him, his indifference, a quality which he once admired.

He'd cut his tongue out if it meant he'd keep his mouth shut, but all he can do is sink his teeth into his bottom lip, deeper and deeper as the car pulls out.

"...Yoongi?"

"Yeah?"

Don't say it.

"What am I to you?"

The engine whines, filling the emptiness of the car.

"My best friend."  

The nonchalance cuts Namjoon to the bone, until his lungs are clinging for life. His labour breathes repeatedly stab through the silence, and all he can do is stare, unanswered questions overflowing in his skull.  

They've never talked about - them, what they were and what they did. Any conversations that went past platonic stayed in Namjoon's room and Namjoon's room only. Which is why now even implications of their deeper relationship felt forbidden, his lips clipped shut when the vaguest of words pass his mind.

But Namjoon doesn't have to be the one to say it.

Yoongi laughs, scratching his ear. "Maybe a best friend with benefits?"      

The sharp edges of his eyes go a deeper shade of red, the hurt settling into the crevices. Acknowledgment, shouldn't that satisfy him?

"Still?" Namjoon asks, his voice barely a whisper.

The pink that dusts over Yoongi's cheek is rare. The sight nearly makes Namjoon's heart swell, until he's hit with the thought that Seungwan is on the older man's mind.

"I mean..." Yoongi clears his throat. "Yeah...if you still want-"

"And what about Seungwan?"

His brows furrow, almost offended. "What about her?"

The response boils in Namjoon's ear, like an off key note.

"Can't you be straightforward with me? Like you usually are?" Namjoon says.

"I am."

A snap cuts out his next thought.

They return their attention to the windshield, and watch as the wipers twist unnaturally before flying off the car into the highway, making a couple vengeful scratches across the windows along the way. All that's left of them is two little useless black nubs, which twitch as they try to operate without their second half.

"Aw, shit!" Yoongi curses, a veil of white particles smudging onto the windshield. The flight of snow has accelerated, rushing to the ground and with nothing to push the snow off their windshield, their view of the road is being eclipsed in white at an alarming rate. "I've gotta pullover."

The gravel hisses as Yoongi's car pulls over into the side of the road, coming to a full stop and leaning into his seat with a groan. "The wind must have been too harsh, they completely snapped off. I'm gonna have to call my parents to pick us up, we can't drive like this."

"Are we just leaving the car?"

"We'll lock it and probably get like - I don't know - someone to pick it up. That's gonna cost a shit load."

Namjoon expects the older of the two to pick up his phone and call his parents, but he doesn't and favours sulking back in his seat, hands rubbing his eyes and grumbling to himself. The stare catches onto his peach lips, and the way he's nibbling on his bottom lip.

"Yoongi..."

"Hm?"

"You looked stressed."

"Do I?" He remarks sarcastically, a grin pulling his lips.

Thoughts of Seungwan sink into the very corner of his head as he stares at his companion, someone who he truly has loved so dearly for as long as he could remember. He just wants to pretend he’s his, and hold him so tight that the mere thought of him ever leaving can’t cross Namjoon’s mind.

I just want to be with you, even if it’s only for a second.

"Do you want me to help?" Is all he says.

There's a pause, one that sucks all the air out of him. Yoongi almost laughs, a giddy smile on his face. But slowly, agonizingly, Yoongi's hands tumble down his face until they settle onto his neck. His eyelashes hover, and Namjoon follows them until they finally open and take in the eager and desperate man right in front of him. Yoongi's eyes, so deep and dark, swirling with a curious lust that the other is sinking into.

He doesn't speak, he nods earnestly, as if it was the question he’d been waiting to be asked all day, He leans into Namjoon's space, until their gazes tangle together. His lips, slightly chapped, barely brush over his, testing him.

Namjoon says yes; His large hands envelope his thin wrists, and pulls him forward so that their lips connect. Starting from the soft plump surface, the fuzzy feeling that alcohol can never recreate the same way runs into his veins, and he feels his heart already urging him forward with the strong and abrupt ache that develops.

He goes further, deepening the kiss as Yoongi's arms find their place around Namjoon's neck.

He doesn't know how long the kissing last until he manages to groan out a husky "c'mere," between the mess they're becoming. He breaks the kiss, waiting for Yoongi to come to him as the smaller tries his best to crawl onto Namjoon's lap in the cramped car. It's in that quiet moment that Namjoon realizes both of their coats are already off and probably somewhere in the backseat, lost to the heat of the moment.

He can already feel the growing bulge in the Yoongi's jeans, and the man impatiently moves to pull down his own zipper before Namjoon halts the action.

"Let me." He demands, voice husky and out of breath. His fingertips barely graze the metal, and stay there, playing with the sharp criss cross that leads up to the metal tab and enjoys the way the other fusses. Yoongi's head scurries into Namjoon's neck, biting in some kind of retaliation.

"Yoongi..."

"Godammit, what!" He exclaims, huffing warm breaths onto his neck.

"I want to go all the way - well, I wanna fuck you, I guess is the proper way to put it."

He feels the way Yoongi tenses up, and thrives in the flustered tremble that sticks to his voice.

"Y-Yeah. Then...Okay."

Finally, he pulls the zippers down, and helps Yoongi to raise himself up and pull it down to his ankles. Namjoon's hands strokes the newly exposed skin of his thighs, pale and covered in goosebumps.

Yoongi's hands in the meanwhile, begin to fiddle with the leather belt looped around Namjoon's own jeans. His eyes glazed with steam, like fresh mocha. Namjoon, for a first, lets him have his way as he loosens the pants and fights to pull them down.

"-And one more thing..." Namjoon whispers, leaving a kiss on the shell of his ear.

"What?"

"I love you. You know that right?"

"I love you, too." He says, adding the last part after a hesitant pause. “As more than...best friends. A lot more, actually.”

Namjoon smirks, lips trailing down the length of his neck.

"...Then prove it."

"Do you think it worked?" Jimin's voice flutters into the air; His chin is on the young Jungkook's shoulder, watching as his nimble hands maneuver a paint brush across the canvas, lips tight in concentration as he adds a strike of black.

Snowflakes dance gracefully across the glass window to their side, the ice that had once tangled into the earth leaving a mild frost in its wake. Nothing but whispers of the raging winter night was left.  

"Of course it did. It was my idea." Seokjin declares, hands on his hips as he views the large gallery in Jungkook's workroom. He's bullied the youngest more than a few times about having a useless major, but his collection of artwork never ceased to amaze him. Maybe he won't be a beggar on the streets once he graduates afterall.  

"What if they hate each other after this?" Hoseok says, a pout weighing down his face, a real one this time.

Seokin's broad shoulders shrug. "Then you'll have to live with the guilt, couldn't have done it without your A plus acting. Can't wait to see you at the Oscars next year."

A furious slap from Hoseok lands right on his upper arm, and Seokjin cries out as if he's just been stabbed, doe eyes wide and flickering with false innocence.

Taehyung grins, linking arms with Hoseok. "Don't worry about it too much, Hoseokie. Namjoon and Yoongi aren’t stupid, it won't be that long until he figures out Seungwan and Yoongi were never dating."

Is that so...Because they also spent the last year certain that no one but Seokjin knew about their frequent late night rendezvous, something Seokjin quickly learned was quite the opposite.

"Can someone remind me why Jin said they were again?" Jungkook chimes in.

"Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder, Kookie." Seokjin claims, the eldest always seemed to have wisdom to pass on, even if such words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. "Or I guess, more possessive."

"Why can't people just say they love someone when they love someone, it's not that difficult." That was easy for him to say. Jungkook's one and only crush throughout his first years of college was currently leaning over him and giggling softly into his ear, arms hugging his center.

Whenever he recounted he and Jimin's personal love story, it was a few short sentences, and went something along the lines of "met him at orientation and I thought he was cute. Became friends, then I told him I wanted him and we've been going strong ever since."  No one in the room could even imagine a world in which Jungkook's desire could be rejected, or not returned back tenfold, let alone by lovestruck Park Jimin.

The pause in conversation lasts too long, and Jimin pipes up. "They're probably fucking in the car as we speak."

The room bursts into a series of gasps, boos, and broken laughter. The ringing that follows is barely audible, but Seokjin feels the phone buzz in his back pocket. He hushes the rowdy group, before picking up the call without much as a second thought.

“Hello~?”

There's a shuffling of clothes on the other side, but Yoongi's exasperated voice eventually comes onto the line.