#gukbae

Body heat is the number one enemy to staying cool. It could be the middle of winter and you’d be at a small concert venue, and you’d walk out of the damn place sweating. Number One Enemy.

And it’s not like Namjoon makes it any better, because that kid never leaves the damn apartment. You’re typically out and about, running errands and doing work and being the productive one in this skewed relationship, and he’s lounging around at home, fooling around on his computer.

Alright, so he does have a job as a bartender on weekends. And, he got you this sick place with relatively-low rent because he has, and you quote, “connections”, so long as you let him stay with you. And while you don’t know if you could consider yourself friends with him, you’re most certainly not enemies, and on quiet nights when even the sounds of Seoul are muted, it’s nice to have someone around.

Less so when it’s not quiet, it’s not nighttime, and the relentless weight of summer is pressing down onto your body in the form of incessant amounts of heat, which just keep flooding your apartment like water. That’s typically when Namjoon’s omnipresent existence in the apartment is less welcome.

Body heat = temperature up. That’s just how it goes.

You return back after a grueling day of work (not really, you’d stay there longer if it meant more time next to the air conditioning unit) to an apartment that’s basically the physical representation of the word “sweat”, and a half-naked Namjoon, camped in front of a bowl of ice, in front of a fan. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and Namjoon has resorted to one of the most desperate. That’s when you know it’s bad.

“It’s too hot,” he declares when he sees you walk in, wholly unfazed by the fact that you are staring at his bare torso.

“Put on a shirt, Jesus H. Christ,” you say in return, not even sparing a “Hello” for him as you shield your eyes, already feeling yourself perspire.

“I feel like that would be totally counteractive to everything that I’ve done thus far today,” Namjoon says, pondering the notion for a good 0.2 seconds before turning back to the fan.

“I don’t care,” you say, immediately going to stick your head in the fridge for the next 48 hours. “We’ve gone four months without having to see each other naked, and I would like it if we didn’t start now.”

“Don’t waste the fridge, you’re gonna make the water lukewarm,” Namjoon says from where he’s sitting, making you direct your attention to the Brita on the shelf, immediately shutting the fridge door. It’s the hottest day of summer, which means the cold water in your mildly-okay apartment is definitely out, which means that if you want some sort of ice cold beverage, the fridge is your only option.

So, seeing that the other ways you could spend the day are lying stark naked in the darkness of your room, taking a cold shower (which is so much worse than people make it out to be), or camping out next to a shirtless Namjoon as you pray for night to arrive, you suppose the lattermost isn’t the worst idea in the world.

You strip yourself of your top (may as well go all the way, right?) and plop down next to him, catching him by surprise. The two of you lock eyes for a hot second, both of you resisting the urge to stare down at each other’s fronts.

“It’s hot, alright?” You say, flustered. Quickly, you turn back to the fan in front of you. “Is it just me, or did it get hotter?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No, it definitely got hotter in here.”

Hesitantly, the both of you turn to face each other again, unsure if the tension filling the room is palpable enough for you to fucking do something about it.

“Do you wanna go to the indoor ice rink?” Namjoon asks.