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Namjin angst/ fluff

Description: Jin is about to leave for his military service and Namjoon has feelings about it.

Content Warnings: Drinking games, cursing, extensive inner dialogue, excessive poetic words

A/N: So, my first fic post ever! I hope you enjoy! Pretty sure k pop is getting me through this pandemic, so I thought I would share the love. This is the first in a whole universe of fics, so stay tuned🤗

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“Jin, man, you should go… we’ve never been to Brazil before… and who’s going to watch the maknae?” Jin just smiled absently and continued to root through the other boy’s suitcase. “They’re gonna cause an incident. Then the policia come knocking on the door and have our kids by the neck –” Namjoon continued. He wasn’t really going anywhere with this, or with anything else he’d blabbed in the hour since he’d puked in the park and rode back to the hotel with his head in Jin’s lap (he tried not to read into it).

Really, it was all Taehyung’s fault. Now, the sum of everything he felt towards Jin could and should probably be blamed on Jimin, but today, that was all Taeh. They were walking through a park, some apparently famous park (although all he could see was tree, tree, bench! tree) and Taeh slowed down his usual golden retriever pace to amble next to RM. “I get it,” he’d said, glancing towards Jimin and biting the side of his finger... or so he’d imagined?

“What?” he’d asked.

“Jin.” What’s red and red and red all over? If a grimace could be a laugh then that was the noise Namjoon made in the next moment. But what the other boy said in the next moment made Namjoon feel both less exposed and hopelessly transparent: “My oldest brother. He served. It’ll be good.” Taeh didn’t really talk about his childhood. Well, none of them really did. What did they talk about? They were so close in some ways, but still strangers in others, even after seven, eight years?

But anyway, it was hot. He thought about Jin leaving, and then he’d puked somewhere in between a tree, tree, and bench!

“Shut it off,” Jin said, making a finger gun and placing it on Namjoon’s forehead. It was as if a black hole had opened where the other boy’s finger touched his head – had he missed something Jin had said? He didn’t want to miss anything he said.

He wished Jin would touch his face, or his arm, or hold his face like a secret in between smooth palms. A look eye to eye like yes, I am here, and yes, it is okay. There was a small smile on Jin’s lips, most of it spilling from his eyes, hovering in his eyelashes. Reassurance was his aura. Of course, the problem was that it was RM’s aura too. The two of them were always that backbone. No-one had ever really asked him if he needed a steadying hand. Was it wrong for him to want to be told straight out it is okay? That it’ll be okay. It was one thing coming from Taeh, but from Jin it was truth.

RM had long been on his own, and even with the others, he’d been solo, underground with the stalactites with thousands of words strung like garland, images tacked onto stone to try to make something pretty out of something dank and dark and festering. His head echoed. He reflected again (and again), brain firing pistons a well-tuned machine, on the practicalities of being alone and the realities of being lonely.

Was it so wrong to want to be found?

Was it so wrong to want to be found by Jin?

 “Here, let’s play,” Jin said, unfolding the chess board and setting it on the bed, rooting through a small bag for the pieces.

“I thought you said to stop thinking,” Namjoon began, mostly to distract himself from watching Jin’s fingertips on the pieces. Wasn’t the body just a machine too? So predictable. It was his job to be unpredictable and look where he was, doing the thing everyone always thought he’d do (but would never speak out loud).

Jin snorted. “Like that was going to happen. Hey! After this... I raid the kitchen.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Wasn’t I supposed to be sick? Namjoon wondered. Jin stage muttered something about eating everything before the mongrels showed up, tilting his head back and laughing over one weak joke and whatever wild conversation he was creating inside of his head. Yep. I’m ILL. I’m DEAD.

Meanwhile, on the outside, Namjoon ran a hand through his hair and laid back onto the pillows. “I think I’d rather just drain everything in that mini fridge.”

“Darling, can we afford that?”

“Yes, I balanced the books last night.” A beat and then they both laughed. It was a game, just a little game. Playing house. But then it just became real and easy and sometimes Namjoon wasn’t sure if he loved the other boy or loved them all or loved himself. Whatever it was, it was certainly serious.

Jin slid off the edge of the bed, laid on his back, and rolled over to the mini fridge. “Hm. This is a challenge isn’t it, Rap Monster?”

“Damn straight World Wide. I’d like to see you try.”

And that was how they spent the rest of the afternoon into the early evening playing drunk chess. Started off as take a shot every time you captured a piece and now it was just the two of them sitting cross-legged on the bed, knee to knee, waiting for the look in the other boy’s eye that said DRINK! Jin missed his mouth from giggling. RM, confident because he was always supposed to be (appear) confident, swiftly reached over and pulled the bottom of Jin’s shirt up and used it to wipe the other boy’s mouth. A thousand years later, or a second, or time it takes to shut your eyes in pain and wake up in pleasure, the shirt fell away and his fingers were on Jin’s lips, ever so briefly, and it was like a kiss to both of them.

Namjoon lowered his hand and looked away. “We’ll never change, you know that right? When I go, or when I come back...” Jin began.  

“I know! We’ll still have lots of, uh, shows, and... and the fans…” Namjoon started, stalling to stop his body from buzzing. because this is what he wanted, for Jin to hold him with his words. Granted, this wasn’t all he wanted but still, wasn’t this everything?

“I mean us. Me and you. We won’t change.”

“Never?” he said as he tilted his head to the side, even though it nearly made him sick again to be so cheeky.

“Not unless we want to,” Jin said gently, his eyes and voice heavy. RM opened his mouth to reply then closed it again. He hadn’t quite figured out what to say, or what to do, or how to climb under the other boy’s skin and live there, or how to tuck Jin inside his pocket to keep him safe, when the door flew open and Jimin stood in the doorway. Eyebrow raised, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

RM rolled his eyes and fell back onto the pillows, his feet in Jin’s lap. Jimin stuck his tongue out, but before any cheekiness and/or snarkiness could ensue, the others stuck their heads in the doorway. Assessing the disaster zone, bottles covering the tables like trophies, they took a running start and piled onto the bed on top of Jin and Namjoon.

Got7 x BTS Moodboard

Bookworm Namjoon X Barista Jackson

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No information at this moment

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